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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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>A typical psyche student at Gotham U is forced to take on the role of the Joker.
>Last issue, we fought our "sister". And now we're planning to team up with her.

>Check for updates on Twitter at GothamQM@QMGotham
>Go here for a list of previous issues: http://pastebin.com/N1nxppJi
>The game rules have been updated again. Go here for MiG castmembers converted for the Batman miniatures game: http://pastebin.com/iMbaimud
>thread theme: https://youtu.be/j3QgS93ecas

A balding, morbidly obese man with red hair stands before a vending machine, carefully counting out spare change. A fierce looking middle-aged man stands nearby, impatiently tapping his walking stick.

"Oh for heaven's sake..." says the man, striking the machine sharply on the side with the stick. The machine sputters for a moment, and the LCD readout blinks to read out "SELECTION." "Clockwork, Mister Brown. Now if you would PLEASE move yourself..."

Arthur Brown grunts at Mister Fugate, and punches a code into the machine. He waits for a moment, then hammers the side of the machine with the butt of his hand, just where Fugate did. A handful of candy bars fall of the vending machine's spool. Satisfied, Arthur takes his Kremelos, and takes a pair of seats in the small brake room. Mister Brown's copious girth finally having moved, Temple Fugate begins preparing a pot of hot water on a machine and a teacup, timing himself with a wristwatch.

"You really should take care of your health, Mister Brown," says Mister Fugate. "Would you like me to tell you how long you might live?" Arthur unwraps his second cream-filled candy bar. "I could tell you the same, Fugate. No calculations required," he growls.


Arthur fidgets with the collar of his plain orange business suit, the whole thing much too tight for his fat neck. He hates Fugate, and he knows the feeling is mutual. In fact, the Cluemaster is fairly certain that none of his coworkers- a group derisively spoken of as the "Brain Trust" by the FBI- feel very positive about one another. The life of a supervillain, if not always a solitary one, is generally one of absolute authority. Nobody in this business likes sharing- and Arthur has to admit, he's a bit worse at it than others.

The coffeepot having finally prepared the boiling water, Temple places a teabag in the cup and pours the water over it, then times the process as the water in the cup is stained a bright amber. "Look at us, Fugate," says Arthur, another candybar gone. "On a coffee break. In an office. I'm wearing a tie, for God's sake. It's just not the natural order of things, is it?" Futage lifts the teabag from his cup, and stirs it with a small spoon. He walks to the table Arthur is seated at, and sits across from him.

"That, Mister Brown, is one thing I think we can agree on. This has all been an... interesting diversion, but I think I sense my time here is almost up." He takes a sip of his tea, and for a second, Arthur can see the clock hands laser-etched into the man's glasses catch the light. "You and I are a lot alike, you know, Temple," says Arthur. "I know about you. I study everything, you know. The others chose this life- but you and I? It chose us. For us, it was always personal." Arthur licks his fingers clean of the gooey chocolate flavored candy, and unwraps another. "So tell me, Temple- why did you take their deal?"

Temple calmly takes another drink, and looks around for any possible eavesdroppers. "I always plan ahead, of course," he says. "I've long term investments in place, from before my company was..." The teacup rattles against the saucer in Fugate's hand as he shakes for a moment, but he calms himself. "...Before it was taken. But I can't redeem them as a convicted felon. First, I need my name cleared. Then, I get my money. And then..." Another sip. "I kill the ex-mayor. Elaborately." Arthur chuckles. "And you, Mister Brown?" asks Fugate.

"Ah, Mister Fugate- I believe I've outplanned you. As the information specialist, I've been given total access to our generous hosts' criminal database. And Mister Fugate, in this age- everyone is guilty. The NSA and FBI keep dossiers of citizens. Internet records, purchase records, sometimes even phone calls- anything that can be scraped from a server and stored. It's useless to them, of course- but to someone with ambition..." The balding man smiles a wicked smile. "I've made copies of every bit of data they have on Yelena Klimanov- the woman who stole my life. And every staff member on that wretched game show. Soon I'll have everything on anyone involved with the entire studio- with the network!" He grits his teeth. "But, until then..."

"False face must hide what the false heart doth know," says an elderly gentleman, clearly having been listening in. The two men are given a start, but settle down quickly. "Not THAT False Face, of course, my boys! Ho ho ho!" the old man laughs at his own joke. "Puzzler," says Arthur in relief. "I take it you heard everything?"

"Enough," says the old man, walking alongside a bald man with a moustache. "But you're not alone, I can assure you."

"You know, Puzzler, of all of us here- you're the one with the least background information," says Arthur. "I can't even find a name for you. Either you're very good at hiding, or..." he trails off, a suspicious tone in his voice.
"Let me assure you, my boy-" laughs the old man, "though you'd might not think it by my nom de plume, there is no puzzle for you to piece together in me. I have been at this game longer than many of you, but only recently have I seen reason to come out of retirement. Oh, I was comfortable, of course. But..." he pauses. "...But as I aged- as I grew older... I felt myself go." He puts a finger to the side of his head. "Things came harder to me, I noticed. I was brilliant once. A force to be reckoned with. But now... Well, now, therein the patient must minister to himself, you know. I'd like a chance to show the world what I can really do. One last puzzle from the greatest mind this city's ever known, before..." The old man smiles a genial, grandfatherly smile, and adjust his bright bow tie. "Well, before the Puzzler loses some pieces that really matter."

The men are quiet for a moment. "...Heed?" asks Arthur. The bald man strokes his moustache. "I've nothing so deeply personal driving me as yourselves, my friends. I'm afraid I am strictly business. Our employers have removed a great deal of Gotham's existing power criminal power structure- like the yolk being blown from an egg, leaving a fragile shell. Someone will need to fill the vacuum, and I've put myself in a position to determine who those people are."

"But we are all agreed, though?" says Fugate. "Time is almost up for Mister Irons, and this whole charade." The other men nod in agreement. "There is the matter of Nygma, of course," suggests Edgar Heed- The Egghead. "He's a lunatic," says Brown. "He knows the whole game. And all the players. He's just concerned himself with making Irons figure it out now. He's gone straight- legitimately, unlike us. I'm fairly certain. I think he's just waiting for this whole mess to blow up on Irons so he can get out. He won't interfere, though. He's having too much fun. Now, Joker on the other hand-"


"Ah, Joker," says Puzzler. " Confusion now hath made his masterpiece, and nothing in his life became him quite like leaving it. All of us here HAVE figured it out, I trust?" The others nod. "His protégées have done well keeping everyone busy. No one's even looking for him, even while they've announced he isn't in their midst. Everyone knows he wouldn't stay dead."

"The boy killed the girl last night," says Arthur. "The 'Daughter.' We don't have a positive I.D. on her yet. He got her alone after the chase and gassed her. Stole the body."

"I expect we'll see it again," says Egghead. "Probably several times over."

Arthur continues. "You might be right. A man was left in a local hospital not long ago. A few minutes later, his body parts arrived separately. Much later a very large donation was made on his behalf to the hospital. We've come to believe it is one of the young 'Joker's' men that was caught in the crossfire between him and the girl. It stands to reason he'd be after poetic justice; he always strikes back when he loses men."

"On that subject," says Egghead, "we come to the Mister Irons's Miss Cris, do we not? Her murder was a direct result of this investigation. Basil Karlo killed her to infiltrate this group, and point us towards the young 'Joker.' He's already voiced his displeasure in flames all over Gotham, hasn't he? And the investigation is tainted. "

"All part of the plan, I'd imagine. Some housecleaning before he shows himself," says Puzzler gravely.

"Someone has been prying into the police databases on Cris's case," adds Arthur. "And it isn't Joker."

"Which brings us to our biggest unknown, does it not?" says Fugate. "The Batman. He's biding his time. He's been... inactive. Abnormally so, with so many of us in town."

"Some of the criminals we've captured have been subdued by him," says Egghead, "The Arkham breakout has kept him quite busy. But I agree- he intentionally seems to avoid the young Joker."


"He knows what we know," says Puzzler. "I think that's clear. I believe he's waiting for the first move to be made by his opponent, for fear of driving the city into chaos."

"Have you SEEN this city, Sir? It's already in chaos," says Fugate.

Egghead smiles. "Oh, Mister Fugate, believe me- with Joker involved, things are set to get MUCH worse."

One last man enters the room- a hunched, twisted little man in a heavy coat, his face covered in stained and ragged bandages. Feebly, the old man sits at the table with his companions. "I hope I'm not missing anything?" he says with a friendly tone.

"Local business, Questioner," says Edgar. "Nothing to concern yourself with." Arthur Brown looks at the little man. "You aren't from around here, are you?" he asks.

The man chuckles. "Oh no, Mister Brown. I'm from all over- Chicago, Metropolis, L.A., but I come by way of Central City."

"I've heard there's a man in Central City who can be everywhere at once," says Temple idly.

"Oh yes," says Questioner. "And the man in Metropolis can do the same. I've met them all, once or twice. Nygma has too, in fact. And President Luthor. Together they were on a... ah, a sort of council, you might call it."

"And were you on this 'council,' Questioner?" asks Arthur. The man shakes his head. "Oh no, no. I wasn't invited. I was old even then, you know- but no, I wasn't invited. I suppose I fell through the cracks, you know?" He sighs. "I... guess I'm good at that."

"It's funny, though, isn't it?" says Egghead, retrieving a small plastic box of boiled eggs from a small refrigerator. "The shining Metropolis has its Metropolis has its 'Man of Tomorrow,' Central has it's 'everywhere man,' and Gotham..." he smiles, "We have our plucked chicken, as it were."


"Are you suggesting that the ills of Gotham are due to the impotence of its protector?" asks Questioner. "Or that one reflects the other? The heart of Metropolis is strong, so it breeds strength. The heart of Gotham is sick, and so..."

"My friends," smiles the Puzzler, "now THIS is a puzzle for the ages. Should anyone find that answer, though, I should think we would find that there'd be no more place in this world for those such us."

The five men finish their break, and return to work.

Around the same time, a car pulls up to a police checkpoint on a bridge leading into Gotham. A beautiful blonde haired woman in sunglasses leans on the door of her red convertible . The checkpoint guard is smitten instantly. The woman smiles, and snaps her gum.

"I'm sorry ma'am," says the man, "but the city on lockdown. You'll need proper autorization-"

The woman reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out a crumpled stack of papers. She looks at them and tries to smooth them out, before giving them up and handing them to the man.
He looks them over. He looks at her, then back to the papers. "You're kidding, right?" He starts to reach for his radio. "Securi-"

"Uh-uh-uh," she chastises, wagging her finger at him. "Why don'tcha call ya boss? Everythin's all clear, he told me. Sent fa' me special."

The man keeps his eyes on the strange woman, but heeds her request- he calls in to his superior. The superior's reaction seems much the same as the guard's. The phone calls proceed up the chain of command, all the way to Irons himself.

"That's right," says Irons. "I sent for her. She's a specialist. Her paperwork is in order; let her in."

The guard hangs up. He's a soldier, so he knows to follow orders, but he still feels uneasy about what he's been told to do. "....Welcome back to Gotham, ma'am." He waves her in.

She lifts her glasses, and gives the man a wink. Then she snaps her gum again, floors the gas pedal on her car, and peels out of the checkpoint.

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But you aren't aware of any of this.

Because for the past few hours, you've been redecorating the Ace Chemical Plant. Household necessities, beds, suits, and other things have been moved, car by car, to your central headquarters. It's not as nice as the amusement park, and it still smells funny, but after a bit of cleaning, everything seems a bit more livable.

...Save for the pile of twenty-some odd grinning corpses on the factory floor. They aren't doing any living at all.

"I guess we could dump 'em all in the river..." suggests Dwayne. "No need, " says Coal, walking up the stairs from the basement. "There's a few large chemical vats downstairs. Just seal them inside one of them and we'll pump the rest with lye. After a while we should be able to just pour them down the storm drains."

"...And speaking of corpse disposal," she tells you, "your guest is still downstairs in the freezer."

"Still cooling her heels, right?" you joke. No response. "I mean, she was a real hothead, don't you think?" She still does not react. "Come ooon, Coal. Laugh. Give me something."

"I think you're wasting your time trying to bargain with her," she says. "The girl is obviously a maniac, and we have got enough of those. Besides, she's trying to kill you."

"I don't know, Coal," you tell her. "I'm pretty convincing. Remember Harvey? And Nocturna, and Shame? They've all tried to kill me, and now they're part of the extended family. Deula's like me- I'm sure we can see eye to eye."

Nobody bothers to tell you otherwise; they know how you can be.

You walk down the stairs into the basement, and unlock the metal door of the old freezer. Inside sits Deula, her back turned to you.

"Morning Sis," you greet her. She turns to you. Her makeup is smeared badly.
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"I came to make you an offer, Deula." You sit down next to her in the freezer. "See, Duela, when the old man gets back, he's likely to clean house. Start fresh, you know? That means you're in the same spot as me. You were using his gang, and taking places important to his 'legend' right along with me. We both took his name."

You look her in the eyes. "You think he'll let you live? Are you willing to crawl to him on your knees and beg? Because there's only going to be one joke there.

I'm asking you, honestly now, do you want to live? Do you at least want a fighting chance? Because you won't have it with Dad."

The two of you sit in silence for a moment on the concrete floor of the old freezer.

"You're wrong. If my father actually sent me here, then that's proof that he loves me. He could have just left me out there, but wanted me back."

She pauses. "...But if he hand-picked you, and you came to let me out... Then he must have planned it, right? He wanted us meet, because he wanted us to team up. We're supposed to make way for his arrival, I think. He must have known the feds were in town, and he needed people he could trust to make things safe for his return. That's why he called us in after all this time. I know I'm his daughter, but..." she thinks hard for a minute, "...I'm not sure where you come in."

"Hey, maybe we're brother and sister after all?" you suggest.

She looks disgusted. "You have to be adopted."

You laugh.

"I mean, I'm still going to kill you, you know," she says. "I've gotten used to being an only child."

"And Harvey's going to kill you," you reply.

"...but for the time being, I think we can work something out..." she nudges you in the shoulder, "...Brother." You stand, and help her up. She continues. "...But I get the Ace plant. You can go live in the Axis plant across town."

You let go of her hand. She falls flat on her butt on the hard concrete floor.


"No way. I've already moved in, and I had the place first. You take the other plant. I've never even been there."

"But THIS is the important one!" she says in a huff.

"He had a hideout here, that's it," you tell her. "Besides, don't you want your own place?"

She still seems upset.

"I'll tell you what, if he comes back, we'll ask which plant it was. If it was this one, we'll trade back. Deal?" Deula pouts for a bit, and you roll your eyes. Then she lets you help her up.

As the two of you walk back upstairs, you have a talk.

"You know, just saying, if you think we're supposed to prepare for him by breaking the lockdown," you say, "we're doing a poor job of it. We... might have made things worse."

"Mostly you, though," she agrees.

"My point is, we've got to do something. I've committed myself to being more aggressive. You still have men that are loyal to you out there; so do I. We both have money, weapons, and power we can pool. Now, let me run this by you..."

>lets all bond as a family
>what is your plan
>what is your goal
>what gear do you need to do it
>who do you need to do it
>how will you accomplish it
Hey guys. Who wants to literally knock over a bank? You know, for fun.
Also someone call Orson and have him throw together most of the campaign money to rebuild Arkham, yeah? Probably gonna need it in decent shape to get the Feds out of our hair.
"Also we're going to let Harvey get in a chance at you alright? Don't worry, I'll make it a gamble. So, I guess that's first."
>To the guys
"Anybody need to talk about anything?"
We'll need a diversion for the bank thing of course, construction crews will need police presence though...so, we should probably go on the Arkham thing first to get them focused elsewhere. Then it's a matter of deciding on sinkhole or explosives.
Anybody think Irons figured out the track was a caricature of him yet?
Haha no.

Concerning gotham we need to just not kill the main infrastructure. Banks are fine, those fuckers set right back up within a week at tops. In this town is just normal buisness.

Concerning Irons, well he wants us. Wants us bad, but does not know what the hell we are doing or where we are. He will probably try to bait us soon, so we need to do it to him first.

Get orson back in pocket with finances. We need to lay a trap and kill FBI agents, maybe fake a break out of gotham, or a mass hostage situation.
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"We have money," you explain, "but we've also got expenses. Recently it seems like we're dumping a lot of money on external expenses. Like, say, hospital bills. Deula." You glare at her, but she brushes it off.

"My point is, right now we've not got a revenue stream. Before the lockdown we had contracts, protection rackets, and money flowing up from the street guys- you never had to deal with all that. Right now we only have what we steal. That's why I'm saying we need to knock over a bank. Literally, preferably."

"A bank job?" she asks. "That seems so... pedestrian. Brother, we'll never get anywhere with that kind of attitude. Think BIG! Think LOUD! Think-"

"That's right, Deula. Think. Remember what I said about your lack of setup? You practically ran the gang into the ground in a few days. Now look how many men we have left."

"Well... that's really mostly your fault, isn't it?" she asks.

"My point is, there's a lot more to running a criminal empire than just blowing people up. You have to make sure you know where everything's coming from, and where everything's going. It's not just a game. It's a business. And a family."

"That sounds so... Penguin though," she says.

"He's a good guy. You'd do well to learn from him," you tell her. "You WERE his daughter once, weren't you?" She rolls her eyes.

"Our other problem is the lockdown. The entire thing is predicated on Arkham being out of commission. So we'll take what money we have left, and donate it to Arkham's reconstruction. That also helps with the other criminals- there's competition in town, but there's also allies. When people get picked up they're getting sent to Metropolis now, and that's no good for anyone. Arkham gets stops our competition from fighting so hard to stay on the streets, and makes sure our friends can get back out when we want."

"So... we rebuild Arkham?" she asks. "Undo what you did? I can support that."

Right. Thinking on how we have done shit so far. We could set up an old western style thing. Knock over the bank (hopefully literally with sink holes), hijack a train, dump the loot to be picked up while we deal with company, explode train into inevitable FBI blockade (make sure we bring along a generator for the train or they will just shut the line down).
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I wanna meet this guy and recruit him.
So go on TV and tell them they're locked in Gotham with the guy that killed 200+ people and the guy who hired Clayface to kill a woman in her home to get to us?
Then we give our thoughts on what the Joker means and tell the populace they can use their freedom of choice? I.E. Joker as the key to freedom or chains of slavery?
Meanwhile we can send feelers out of gotham to get some info.

We need to know if this shit storm is going to come to an end soon and as such should we bunker down or not, or if something worse will happen.
We can get info by seeing how the rest of america is viewing this.
Oh boy oh boy that race last time was a hoot and a holller.

I agree that rebuilding Arkham's a good idea.

A recruiting drive to get this city back to business would be a good idea too. We've shown people this new Gotham isn't worth the trouble, might as well go back to the old model, at least that worked after a fashion.
Sounds like a great way to announce where we are to draw in the feds so sure why not.

besides, I feel we have lacked our laught for long enough, a good monolouge should be enough for one.
It would've been fine if Coke Classic hadn't stuck his nose in.
You know we're going to have to kill him right?
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"Our biggest problem is Irons- the man running this shitshow. He wants us; he's told me to my face. I don't think he knows what the hell we're doing or where we are, though. He's going to move soon to bait us. We need to get him first. We need some kind of trap.

So here's my plan, Deula- I'm thinking an 'Old West' theme. We knock over the bank, hijack a train, and pretend to use the train as a getaway. Then we blow the train into the blockade on the lines.

And first, I'm going to tell them we're doing it. I want Gotham to know they're not just locked up in here with me, they're locked up with a man who hired Clayface to kill a woman to get to us."

Deula runs your plan over in her head. "I'll hijack the train, then," she says. "You take care of the bank. We'll keep our alliance quiet for now; they won't recognize the two jobs are connected until we meet up."

"'Attagirl," you tell her.

The two of you finally step out onto the factory floor. You introduce Deula to the others. They seem less than enthusiastic about the new addition to your family. You explain the plan.

"I'd also like to put out feelers for info. Both in town, and outside. We need to get Spike on this. I want to know if this is coming to an end soon, or if things are set to get worse. In the meantime, I need to call Orson. I have an investment to make."

You dial up Orson.

"Hello...?" he says sheepishly.

"Hello Orson," you say. "It's been awhile."

You hear him moving on the other end of the line, likely going to another room. He returns. "I... I heard you were dead. I SAW you were dead! I mean, she said you'd be back, but.."

"I got better," you tell him. "Nobody ever stays dead, anyway. I called to check in on my finances."

"I didn't touch them. I assumed someone would call to handle them. Miss Vogel told me you'd probably get in touch, but I didn't thing she meant... YOU."

"Orson, buddy, I'm the Comeback King."
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"Orson, I'm the Comeback King." You think about what he said "Wait, who?" you ask him.

"Miss Vogel. Sabrina Vogel? Dark hair, tan, wears suits?"

"...Nightjar? She did say she'd been talking to you. Well then Orson, if the accounts are fine, I'd like to make an investment- a BIG investment. Everything left of the campaign money, I want donated directly to Arkham's reconstruction. Silently, of course."

"A donation? Is there some special... complications that might arise from it that I should be aware of?"

"No complications, Orson. This is strictly on-the-level. I want it rebuilt, and I want it rebuilt fast. All this going on in town is because Arkham is out of commission. I want the old status quo back."

"I can't say I blame you," he says, relaxing. "And you aren't the only one. There's a few other clients here that might be open to the idea... everyone's seen a sharp fall in local revenue. Only the nationals or brokers are doing business. Gotham's local economy has gone cold."

"Well then, let's warm things up, shall we?" you say. "Take care, Orson. Don't take any wooden nickels."

You hang up. While you've been speaking to the little man, the others have been discussing the plan. Deula is standing on a table gesturing to the others, trying to put on some kind of show as she plans. You remember all the times you've overacted to make others believe you were the old Joker, and cringe.

Dwayne looks over at you. "You know, Boss. A long time ago you had some idea about ninja clowns or somethin'. I told you I had a specialist back then, but things got iffy, an' I never had a chance to phone him in. He's a thief, mainly a safecracker. Damn good one, too. I can give him a call if you want, an' see if he's still in town. If we're doin' a bank job, he seems like the man to call."

You nod. "Call him in, D. We're short on hands."

"I'm goin' with this one," says Dot, motioning to Deula. "Train job is more my style, an' she ain't gonna do it on her own."
Everybody knows if we want to get our guys out of this alive there's a really good chance we'll have to kill her and him right?
I've seen enough blood from people Brock actually gives a damn about, personally.
Well we are going to stuff the train with explosives.
I don't know, she might have a bit of a grudge.
Just be careful.
This, and if she tries anything "funny" bash her brains out
Fine but Dottie gets the switch and told to bail. Even if we don't tell Duela.
Or get Dotty to bail from the train early and remove detonate the explosives while duela is still riding it.

First rule of Twitchs bomb making school: Always have multiple detonation devices.
She gets one, we get one.
I like this idea.
Idk if multiple detonation devices are needed.
Seems the fire from the crash'd do it.
It's incase we need to detonate early/manually.

E.g. Some tool thinks they disabled the bomb, we can straight up go
"No, no you did not." CLICK

You nod to Dot, but give her a wary look.

"If this IS an 'Old West' theme..." you tell the others. "I think we have a friend who'd like to get involved."

"Please, boss.... Please. No," pleads Dwayne.

"We need cowboy gear, don't we? Who else can get it for us?"

"Anybody, boss. There's a costume shop on practically every block. This is Gotham for god's sake."

"D, call Shame. And your safecracker. Let's get this show on the road.

You take Dot aside later. "Dot, when you two rig the train with explosives, I want you to hold the detonator. And I'll hold one too, just in case she tries anything funny."

"It's a train, Boss. They only go one way."

"I know I was the one who wanted her, but I still want to be cautious. She's done a lot to us."

"You know, I wish I could peel the bitch like a grape myself. But you went an' prodded her, an' now she's gone all in on some creepy brother/sister thing. "

"Just bail if she tries anything. Or beat her brains out, whichever you want. I don't think Harvey would hold it against you."

"Fifty-fifty chance," she says. Dot heads off to Deula, leaving you to finalize the details of the bank job.
That said we could just have them both off early like we should. That's just in case Duela tries shit.

It's been a few days, but once again, Gotham's televisions once again cut to static. Their favorite show comes on once again, this time by way of a jury-rigged broadcast relay via Spike. Only local channels this time, unfortunately, but that's all you need.

You smile at them. "Good afternoon, Gotham. I just want to apologize- I guess you might say I 'went to pieces' for a bit with the whole... 'suicide' thing. But now I'm back, folk. I just can't say no to a game, I suppose. And Gotham's become such a nice playground, hasn't it?

See, while you've been locked in here with me, you've also been locked in with my good pal Derrik. Let me tell you something- he may look jolly, but deep in there... DEEP in there... I mean, REALLY deep in there, under all that fat, there's a black shriveled up little heart that makes even me jealous. Why, while I was out burning your city and killing your children, do you know what he did? Mister Irons made a deal with Clayface to kill my girl Priscilla and take her place, just so he could trot her around on T.V. That's right, folks. He didn't even give her a chance to do it herself.

WE found her dead in her apartment, but the police are still reporting that she died days later, when they sent Clayface to attack us and we took him out. But you all KNOW how Clayface never stays out of commission for long. He's still out there, because THEY let him out. He could be ANYBODY.

He might even be me! HA HA HA! I mean... He's not, but he COULD be. Hope that helps you sleep tight, Gotham. Just remember when you cuddle up to your hubby by the fireplace, or call your son in from playtime that they might be a clay man sent by our good friends the F.B.I. Bang up job, Irons. You've done me proud.

Tell me, Gotham- who holds the keys to this city? Do you want these people doing it, when they're willing to kill just to get their way? Do you want ME doing it? Because we've seen how well that goes.

Or do you want to do it yourselves?

Maybe roll the footage if we need to.
Also he got our boy Red, kinda.
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"Think about it, Gotham." The camera cuts to the unedited footage from the Department Store, showing Red's personal vendetta to the world, Cris shouting at the soldiers, and her body melting into Clayface. This loops for almost an hour before the feed is overwritten by the network.

Gotham has a lot to think about. You hadn't denied that Cris had been manipulating them- in fact, you confirmed it. But you also told them that she'd been murdered. Many of them don't disagree with criminals being killed; they'd probably like to see you all strung up. But to then parade her around on TV... To speak through the lips of a dead woman like a puppet... There's no real precedence of that.

Only in Gotham.

Finishing up your broadcast, you return to the plans for the heist. Coal helps prepares you a number of explosive charges, pausing only when her coughing spells get too severe for her to work through them. The charges complete, she returns to her room.

That night, number of your men plant charges inside the subway tunnels that run beneath the bank. You still need the sewers clear for emergencies, so attacking through them wasn't viable.
With everything set up, you all set out for the heist the next day- at High Noon.

You stand before the bank, a white cowboy hat on your head, and a bandanna over your face. A smile is drawn on it, of course. Your hand rests on the revolver Red made you.

The November sun is high in the sky. You wish you'd thought ahead and ordered some tumbleweeds.

As you all take your positions in front of the bank, Dwayne whispers to you- "Safecracker's in place in the tunnels, boss. They go in once you do your thing." You nod, then step forward.

"This is a stickup!" you shout at the bank. People begin screaming and fleeing in terror. They don't know what you're planning, but it can't be good. "Down on the ground!"

There is a rumble as you trigger the detonator in your pocket. The back begins to shake as the concrete shears. The building tumbles into the subway tunnels backwards at an angle, crumbling, but holding its shape- for now. The entrance to the building points up towards the sky at a 2-o'-clock angle.

"See?" you turn to Shame. "THAT'S how you 'Knock over' a bank."

"Ain't it more... leanin?" he says.

"That just means it's on the ropes," you tell him. "We deliver the knockout blow after we get into the vault."

The three of you enter the front door of the tilted building, carefully sliding down the tiled floors.

Inside, a number of customers are reeling from the explosion, crumpled and injured on the far end of the room, now located down the slope from the entrance. Among them are a few scattered security guards. You let yourself fall straight down the room's floor towards the counter, standing on its front panels. The security guards try to do the same, stumbling to get a footing on the uneven floor.

Dwayne drops down the slope on top of one of them. You hear a crunch. The guard is... probably okay, you tell yourself.

Shame slides down the slope towards the other one, firing a single gunshot through the guard's head. Blood splatters over the shrieking customers. That one is definitely not okay.
>Hope for Brock having to argue with Harley knowing who he is and it boiling down to "I'm fine Mom! Get out of Gotham!" intensifies
>Hope for Harley bitching at him for telling people people he grew up poor while he points out "Have you ever tried to pawn diamonds in a glorified trailer park of 200, full of meth and crack-heads mom? That's how you get cops wondering how you have 'The Shard of Hope'. We only ever had money in theory, which you'd know if you ever bothered to stop by." intensifies
Man if Brock's actual mom was Harley that would be hillarious.

Also might hint at survival considering she has grandkids in batman beyond.
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"Vault's in the back," says Dwayne. "We have to fall down a couple more rooms. Safecracker should be entering through the floor. Or... wall, now. Whatever."

The three of you try to help each other carefully drop between rooms. There are no guards left, but you can hear sirens outside.

You finally arrive at the vault, already finding a man in an orange suit hard at work on it. A hole has been opened in the tiles that were once the floor, and your men stand in the subway tunnel beyond.

"Your safecracker?" you ask Dwayne. He nods.

"Meet Phil Reardon, boss. Guy sees with his hands. Let him handle any lock, an' he'll have the thing open in a flash. Ain't nobody been able to keep him in a cell for long."

"How does seeing with your hands help you open locks?" you ask. Dwayne just shrugs. Phil, however, proves true to his reputation- within moments, the vault door is unlocked.

"All yours," he says, making a gesture with his hands. You can see tiny eyes tatooed on his fingertips. "Now you have to get it open. It swings out, which means..." he points upwards.


"Get a rope around that door, Dwayne- see if you can pull it up. Everybody else, load the cash into the tunnels." The men get to work, Dwayne doing an admirable job of holding the heavy vault door open with the ropes by himself. He stands in the subway tunnel, ropes wrapped around himself and the vault's handle, pulling back and hoping the vault door doesn't slam shut.

The building trembles for a moment, and one of the men slips back towards the vault; if it fails, he'll be cut in two by the metal door. You hear Dwayne cry out as he strains himself to hold the heavy door open- and he does. The man clambers back up.

Much of the money loaded into the subway tunnels, you wait for the men to get out, then signal to Dwayne. He lets the vault door fall, and it shakes the whole building.
Well in some of her backstories she had one or two kids while she was in high school in a poor section of upstate New York. Her dad was in prison, the kids lived in a trailer park with their grandmother as I recall. She left them with her parents in hopes she could come back and provide for them after finishing her internship at Arkham. I...think

She also had a brother and other close relative in Bludhaven and Gotham respectively. All rather poor or criminal.
It's entirely possible Brock wasn't lying necessarily in the vault, but drifting in and out of accidentally not telling the truth. He could've spent most of his adolescence and teenage years bouncing around Bludhaven, Gotham and New York because nobody really knew what to do with him.
>Add in becoming a psychologist out of concern and maybe trying to find a way to keep his mom a touch more stable.
>Along with his relatively persistent interest in Harley in the couple of early threads, not as being a creep, but a kid being concerned about his batshit mother.
If The QM does this I will be shocked. It would be fucking cool though..
Well the QM has already pulled one long con on us. And despite our efforts to fuck up the tracks he keeps this crazy clown car going so.
>what con was that?
Holly's Death was pretty much set since we met her, and you writ her part so well you got a few anons to go "Oh fuck thats dark" in a quest where we murdered kids and cut a man into ribbons.
>oh yeah
>ive had the ending written since then too
>i only had to add one part due to recent and upcoming events
So you thought we were going to kill duela instead of using her.
>thats the gist of it, yeah
When the threads over ide like to know:
How impressed were you at some of our solutions, and which did you like best?

"Take the money through the tunnels and escape. We'll bring the building down once we're clear. The rest of us have to go out through the front."

"The FRONT?' says Phil.

"We have a distraction set up," you explain. "They need to think we have the money and chase us."

Dwayne is doubled over in the tunnel, trying to catch his breath. "Boss... I can't go up there," he says. "I wouldn't make it."

You think quickly. "Alright Reardon, you're up. Maybe they'll buy that Dwayne lost a few hundred pounds. And got shorter." The man is clearly perturbed, but he holds his tongue. A professional.

You hear shouting from above, and wave the others down the tunnel. "A gun," says Reardon, holding a hand out towards you. You start to toss him one.

"STOP! Just... Hand it to me," he says. "My eyes are sensitive."

What a freak.

You stand at the bottom of an overturned bank with a cowboy and what you can only guess is some kind of mutant.

The three of you help each other vault between stacks of furniture and doorframes as you rise through the building. As you near the entrance, you see what the shouting was- the police have arrived. They stand at the entrance warily, none willing to step into the mouth of the upturned building.

You make a motion to the other two, and the three of you step up into the leg space beneath the tellers' counters, arms and legs holding you upright. Once you have a grip, you all claw your ways onto the countertops. You are hopelessly out of breath; all of these acrobatics don't suit you.

The policemen shout, and start shooting downwards towards the counters, but the three of you are safely hanging behind panes of bulletproof glass now. Though admittedly the "safely" part is up for debate; if you let go, you will go falling back into the rear of the bank.

All around you the building shudders; it won't last long.
We need gas bombs and a launcher to force it up out of the building.
We have lite smilex grenades, anybody got an arm?
Or we could use hostages, if we can force them out. Maybe yelling at the cops all these innocent people are gonna die if they dont let everyone out the entrance now.
Not really in a position to hole up.
It buys us enough time to set up our launcher at least while they think on it.
That's really up to how far the entrance is as to whether we need it. We could also impromptu grapple gun with the Bang!gun and all the super tied together handkerchiefs up our sleeves.
Time go kiddies. Gas to cover us and liberal application of lead.

"Nuff of these Deputies! Ol' Joker wants to put a whoopin on the Sheriff!"
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You try to reason a way out of the situation; any gas bombs you try to toss up will fall straight back down. The customers still lay on the counter fronts, struggling to find a way out.

The policemen take advantage of the situation, dropping a smoke grenade down onto the counters; it slides down the glass and rests in the crook between the foot of the counter and the floor. The back of the bank begins to fill with smoke.

Shame lifts his hat out of his eyes with his gun. "I reckon this ain't the last hangin' we're gonna be doin'," he says.

You come up with an idea. You pull a gas grenade from your belt. "All these customers are going to die if you keep this up," you tell them. "One gas grenade and all of us go."

"Will you calm down?" says Phil. "If you can get me over this glass, I can take them out."

"This whole gall-darn place is smoked out," says Shame. "Ain't no way, unless you get lucky. An' our luck ain't that good today."

He waves a hand at Shame. "Ten eyes, man."

The Ten-Eyed Man takes your hand, and you swing him over the top of the glass. He takes a knee amidst the smoke, and holds a hand in the air.

From five different angles, Reardon surveys the room above him. He sees every small opening in the smoke from every angle, and in his mind, pieces together an image of the room above.

One shot. Two. Three.

You hear the policemen shouting, but they dare not shoot back into the room, for fear of injuring hidden innocents.

"They're clearing out," says Reardon. "Probably waiting on us to exit."

"Where?" you ask.

He looks down through the glass at you. "I have ten eyes, not X-ray vision. The hell should I know?"

He helps the two of you up onto the glass, and you're able to climb up the side of the room. You all crouch on a pillar near the entrance, and you ready a gas grenade.

"All right, boys. Let's kill us some deputies. I'm itchin' to put a whoopin' on the Sheriff."

You toss the grenade from the mouth of the bank.

The not having quest in the title, I assume. Even as a player I fon't understand why he doesn't do so. There's literally nothing to gain from not.
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Elsewhere in the city, Deula and Dottie arrive at the train station, Deula in a brightly-colored western dress, and Dottie in a cowgirl outfit. They look like rodeo clowns, except both of them are carrying guns.

They step onto the train. Fake passengers have been riding this specific rail since last night, each placing explosives in secret. A few set up a backup battery, in case the electric rail is deactivated by the feds.

"This is your stop, everyone," says Deula, shooting her gun into the ceiling. The passengers panic and hurry out of the traincar. Deula hikes up her skirt, and the two proceed to the front of the car, on towards the conductor.

"Something's been bothering me," says Deula, as the two march through the center aisles. "You came to get me to lead your gang. Me, specifically. But then you stabbed me in the back. Why?"

The two step onto the next car, where the passengers crowd the center of the car. "Excuse me!" says Deula, shooting into the air. "Important business, no time to dally." The passengers scream and scatter into their seats, letting the two strange women pass. "Thank you!" says Deula gratefully. They walk on.

"Doll, if I'd stabbed you in the back, you'd know," says Dot. "I was just lookin' for anybody willing to take the job. You just happened to show up."

Deula reaches into her handbag and tosses explosive charges to a couple of the passengers. They drop them, screaming. "So you thought he couldn't do the job, is that it?"

They reach the front of the train. Deula, without hesitating, fills the conductor full of bullets.

"No, that's not it," she says, turning to Dot. "You just wanted him out. You and Brother, huh~?" she asks in a singsong voice. Deula grabs the chain that controls the train's whistle, and lets two loud blasts. "CHOOOO CHOOOOO"

"The girl must have gotten away from the Joker," says one of Irons's aides. "The two of them are both attacking at the same time."

"That's too convenient," says another. "They're working together. Look- the Joker robbed the bank, and the Daughter hijacked the train. They're using it as a getaway to break the blockade- once they're across the river, they're planning to escape."

Irons nearly calls in the Brain Trust, but does not. Ever since Karlo, Irons has been more and more wary of the villains in his midst. As soon as the Joker is in custody, he will close the book on the "Brain Trust" too. All of them.

"Let's let them meet," he says. "Wait until they pick up the Joker, then we'll wait for the train to near a tunnel. We'll cut the power to the rails, and take the place on foot. They'll have nowhere else to go."

Dottie stands on the roof of the train engine. "Alright, Dollface. We got nowhere else to go. We gotta jump off before the train goes too far. We'll fall back an' meet up with the Boss on foot."

Deula hangs on the ladder on the outside of the train. "Jump WHERE?" she asks. "He could've come up with a better exit plan than this..."

"Hey, this was your part of the op, babe. 'S your own damn fault if we die. C'mere."

Dottie helps Deula onto the roof of the traincar, and raises a crowbar over her head. She grabs Deula around the waist just as an arched lightpole passes overhead. The crowbar catches the rail and the two girls stop abruptly, the train rushing by under their feet. There is a popping sound and Dottie whimpers. Had they not slowed the train before their escape, she'd have a lot worse than a dislocated shoulder.

Dottie grits her teeth as she holds both herself and the other woman over the train underfoot by her aching shoulder. Once the train passes completely, she lets go, and the two drop down onto the rails. "See? Nothin' to it." Dot puts her shoulder back in place with a disgusting pop.
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The two head back to the rendezvous point, where they meet you, Shame, and Reardon. The three of you just arrived in a stolen cop car- numerous dead policemen in your wake. You introduce everyone.

"So... what? You just... feel things?" Deula asks Reardon.

"No, I can see just fine. They attached my optic nerves to my fingertips." He shows her the tattoos.

"But..." protests Deula, "that's not how eyes work. There's a lens and stuff..."

"Careful with this one, Phil," you say. "She'll be saying she's your daughter next. Everybody look out- here comes The Ten-Eyed Man's Daughter!"

Everyone laughs, except Deula.

"Where's D?" asks Dot. "Guessin' this guy's the safecracker."

"He got hurt," you say. She looks worried. "Nothing serious, mind. Just strained himself. He took the money through the subway with the men. I already called; they'll be waiting for us at the plant."

"Speaking of waiting," says Deula, pulling a detonator from her petticoat. Dot checks her pockets. "I took it while we were cuddling," Deula tells her with a wink. "You're not about to take this one from me." She clicks the detonator.


Elsewhere, the train has been shut down by the police. Though they slowed it by cutting the power to the rails, the train still moves. They finally manage to stop the train with towlines, just before it reaches the city limits. Soldiers enter the train cautiously, securing each car one-by-one. To their surprise, they find nothing- no Joker, no passengers, no nothing. Just a hole burned into the metal ceiling of one car.

To their surprise, the rear two cars are missing. Someone dials in- it seems they were discovered a mile back, the passengers having been herded inside and the cars cut from the train by an unknown hero. The passengers report that the man searched every car for bombs, and removed them, tossing them in the river below.

There is a click. A splash erupts from the river, just as flames tear through the traincars. The men on and around the train are engulfed in fire, third degree burns incinerating their flesh and binding metal to plastic to cloth to flesh. Most don't die immediately- it's the infections later that get them. The rest just wish they'd died.

Batman searched inside the cars. He didn't look UNDER them.
Oh Bats.
You tried, didn't you?
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Deula cackles excitedly. Then realizes there was no immediate explosion.

"It's across town," you tell her. "Of course you're not gonna see it."

"Then what's the POINT?"

"The point is, we just got an entire bank's worth of money. A whole vault full. Our biggest worry now is where to store it." Then you remember the bank. "Oh yeah," you say, triggering your own explosive. On the other side of town the bank collapses in on itself. There might have been people inside, but there might not have been.

"We're community servants, little sister. That means putting the smiling faces of others before our own. Now let's all get home and decide how we're spending this money."

You all pile into the cop car, and ride off into the sunset.

When you arrive at base, piles of cash sit all over the room. Dwayne is lying on the floor, relaxing, looking at a newsfeed on his phone.

"You got a whole bunch of the feds with that train stunt," he says, "Says there's only one fatality, but a buncha critical injuries. Most of 'em ain't never comin' back to work, that's for sure." He gets up, careful not to put too much stress on his back.

"You know," he says, "this much money an' I'd normally say we'd be needin' a launderer, yeah? Keeps he feds off your back. But... I guess we don't gotta worry about that for a while, do we?"

"I hate to be trouble, but my fee didn't cover being under fire, or... really very much of what we've done today. I will have to raise it- nothing personal, of course. Just business. I need to make sure my contracts are enforced."

"That's fair, I guess," you tell him. Deula looks to protest but you silence her with a motion. "Dwayne, I know you're out of sorts, but you think you can handle Reardon's pay?" He nods. "Spike gave me a call earlier, too," he says. "Said he's got some info for you." He tosses you his phone.
Obviously we check it asap, possibly in private.
You head to your office and dial Spike. "Spike, Dwayne said you knew something?"

"Yeah," he says. "I been checkin' the news. Outside the city, people are talkin' about how Gotham's gettin' cleaned up. They see they place like we've declared a state of emergency. I mean, the feds' orders came straight from the President himself. Guess Luthor saw it as too big a problem. People're worried about it, but their ain't much reportin' going on from outside sources, since travel in 'n out is restricted. Almost everythin' comes from Gotham News and is sent to affiliates and the AP that way, an' even they don't have full access. Real hush hush. Pretty soon it's just gonna be one of those 'new normal' things, you know?"

"That sounds bad," you tell him, "Irons told me most of that, but the thing about the press seems strange..."

"Yeah well, I got a hold of a contact who says he can fill us in on what's goin' on. He's real fishy, but I seen him around the 'net. Black hat type. Bad news, man, but he's real interested in talkin'. He an' Oracle been goin' at it for a while now. But you send the word, I'll let him know you're wantin' to meet, an' you can set up a meeting- but he ain't gonna want to meet outside his office. He's kinda a shut-in type, dig?"

>wat ask
>wat do
"That all you know now? I mean I know how you like to get fished at for this sort of thing. So, are you holding anything back right now? Kinda important man, I don't have time to really play around."
"You got a screen name or anything for this black-hat?"
"I might need to think on it. Just running things through my head."
"I don't suppose he'd be alright with an online meeting then? But yeah, I'm pretty interested."

"Is that all you know? I need to know if you're holding anything back, Spike. I don't have time to play around."

"That's all I know man, I swear. We're dealing with the feds here. They're much better at this shit than me. I can't even drive yet. I checked the Governor for any webcams, but unless you're lookin' for videos of an old guy jerkin' it, ain't nothin' there worth while."

"Alright, Spike. I believe you. I'm going to need to think on this, though. You got a name for this guy? A screen name?"

"Yeah," he says. "The Calculator."

"Would an online meeting work? Then nobody's in danger."

"Yeah, I tried that, Boss. Said he'd only do it in person. Don't want nobody pryin'. Thinkin' he thinks Oracle's on his back."

You hang up. "Does anybody know a 'Calculator'?" you ask the room. The look to one another, but no one seems to know anything.

"Who's that?" asks Dot.

"Some guy Spike knows," you tell her. "Said he can fill us in on what's going on."

"And you don't trust this guy?" asks Dwayne.

"After all the shit I've been through? Not on your life, D. I'm half-expecting some supervillain trying to trap me again like Calendar Man. Seems like more villains are after me than they are Batman."

"You make friends so easily, don't you Brother?" says Deula,

"If he knows anything, we probably need it," says Dot. "Anythin' will help. We're flyin' blind right now."

"He wants a meeting," you tell her. "And won't do it online. He seems a bit paranoid."

>wat do
"I guess we'll set up a meeting for a couple days from now."
Alright, we'll drag along Nocturna and Quilt as back-up if there's anything weird.
Though there always seems to be.
Maybe tomorrow? I need a minute, and after the shit we pulled today we'll need...well, we need recruits for one.
Whatever it is, it's going to piss me off I'm sure . But some calls to Nightjar and maybe Harvey might be in order.
Guess I'll just have to talk to both of them, and Calculator.
>After that
>Light a cigarette, unwind, try not to worry so much.
"And Duela, if you come with. We're just there to talk. Unless you want to stay here or something."
"Dot, Dwayne. Get some braces or something. I should probably talk to Coal about our chemical stock, for after the talk. Whatever is coming might need brute forcing."
>If Duela protests explain Brock will be talking Harvey -out- of killing her, and it might involve Russian Roulette.

You call back Spike. "A couple of days from now," you tell him. "Tell him we'll meet him at his place in a couple of days. We need time to prepare. And no tricks. Whatever this nerd thinks he could do to me, I can promise you- I can do it better."

Spike agrees, and you hang up. The date is set- in a couple of days, you go to meet the Calculator, whoever that is, and he promises to shed some light on this situation.

You tell the others. "Dwayne, I'd like to put in a call to Nocturna and Dekker. The two of them can come with me. If this deals with the lockdown, it deals with all of us, and those two should cover any situations pretty well.

We need more recruits, after..." you glare at Deula. "...the recent unpleasantness. Tomorrow, I think I need to meet with Nightjar and Harvey." You look to Deula. "If you come to see Harvey with us, remember that we're there to talk. You can stay here if you want, though."

"I think that while you're doing all that Penguin work, I'd be better off staying here running the gang. Two heads are better than one, you know."

You do not know.

You lean back, and ask Dot for a cigarette. She gives you one, and lights it for you. You take a long draw.

"I'll tell you what, Deula- go for it. But remember, my men aren't expendable. That's the rule. If you're one of us, you need to realize- the people under you? They're people. They're not just toys for you to break."

"I'll be careful," she smiles.

"Dwayne, you need a back brace or something?" you ask him.

She shakes his head. "Nah, just lemme lie down for the night. Mostly just tired. Door was damn heavy."
"Thoughts anybody? Although Condiment King might work better. I'm not sure if Quilt's helmet is hackable. Questions? Anything I'm missing?"
Check on Coal.

...look, we got a city full of super geniuses. Even if half are off their nut, if Coal's got something wrong with her, there's something we could probably barter/sell to get someone to cook up a cure.
>Go to bed after a while I guess unless someone seems like they want to talk, after checking on Coal and making sure she isn't dead.
Outside of being a sadistic junkie that cares an inordinate amount for our wellbeing I don't know that there is.
>Talk to Dottie to make sure she's alright after the past week, in private if need be.
>Talk to Duela to see what she's got going on in her head.
>Talk to Coal to make sure she's doing okay.
Been a while since we've just talked to our people. Not necessarily in that order.
>YFW Calculator is capable of predicting Brock's movement and plans a good 45-55% of the time.
>YFW you realize Calculator's predictions only work for hero types.
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"Those things are heavier than cars, D," says Dot. "Damn right it was heavy."

You notice Dottie's badly bruised shoulder. "What happened to you?"

"Had to pick up your 'Little' 'Sister.'" She emphasizes both words separately. Deula's eyes are like fire.

"Broken?" you ask.

"Dislocated. Popped it back in though. Happened before; it'll happen again," she shrugs. Then she winces- shrugging was a bad idea.

You hold the cigarette in your mouth, and head to Coal's office. She is leaned over a few test tubes. It seems she's running at least three experiments at the same time. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun, and she seems tired.

"Ice?" you ask her. She points to the freezer.

You go to the freezer and fill a small bag with blocks of ice. "How's our chemical stocks?" you ask.

"Unless you're planning on going to war, they're fine. You've got enough for day to day use."

"Tell you what, Coal," you tell her, "let's assume we will be going to war, and work from there, okay?" You start to head down stairs. "Say, Coal..." you turn. "You seemed to be getting awfully friendly with those prescription meds. I don't think we really needed anything in that Controlled Substances room at all. And you slipped up back when I O.D.'d - it seemed like you'd had personal experience. Plus your health's been pretty bad recently... You're not... you know, just getting high off this stuff or something?"

She laughs.

"Look, just don't go killing yourself chasing some high. Is that too much to ask? I'm not saying don't do shit. But to be frank, I need you around. Dot's going to need help when... Look, neither of us have your chemical expertise. I can do a little basic chemistry. Just not Fear Gas, Smilex, or that Kuru Juice of yours. And I'd wager Dot's abilities at it don't go too much higher."

Coal is leaning on the desk now, her face in her hand. You can't see her expression.

"Shit Coal, I was in, what? A pharmacology class and Biochem with you?"
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"You most certainly were not," she says. "Really, Brock. Lying is a terrible habit."

"I'm just concerned. You always seem concerned with me. An... inordinate amount."

"There's really nothing to discuss. You think I'm some kind of drug addict. It's touching, and a bit insulting, but unnecessary. No, Brock. I take only what I need. I just happen to need a great deal."

"...Go on."

"An illness. A long-term one. It's effects can be mitigated, but never cured. I've been dying since before we met. But then, everyone is, aren't they?"

"That's why you're so unconcerned with other people," you say. "You really don't care anymore. But then, why are you so..."

She's quiet for a moment, then approaches you. She takes you in her arms. "I never married," she says plainly. "So I never... I guess I felt I needed to make up for something."

For a moment, your heart aches for the woman.
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"You're lying, aren't you?"

She laughs, and pushes you away. "Of course I am. Now go- I've got work to do."

"That was uncalled for," you tell her. "I was just worried. Is that so wrong?"

"That's what I've been trying to teach you," she says, leaning against the desk. "You care too much."
...fuck. Fuck. FUUUUUUUCK.

Goddamnit QM. Hug back.
You just got reked m8
Ok, wow. Yes. I can only laugh at that. Damnit, timing!
Knowing this QM he might just be double lying though
>Laugh a little
That was pretty good.
Speaking of, is Scarecrow's 'Fear Gas' supposed to be something besides a "meh" acid trip? Because that's all I ever got off it.
>you were never exposed to the fear gas. You were outside of the area while it happened, coming home from the explosion at the big gang meetup
Oh. If that's true, mayhap we should try it out. Controlled environment, so we know what the effects are. So if we ever actually get hit with it...
There was this line about the 'world melting' during the escape from the man-bats that made me think Brock was. Sorry.
>sorry, that was out of character stuff. I should have been more clear.
>Laugh a bit about it
Well, take care anyway. I'll, I don't know. I always manage to limp into the sunset at the end of the day somehow.
I'd just rather make sure you guys make it.
And we both know you care a little.
Have a good night alright?
You laugh a little. "Look, just take care anyway. I always manage to limp into the sunset at the end of the day somehow, don't I? I'd just rather you guys make it."

Her mood seems to darken a bit. She shoos you away with her hand. You start to leave again.

"And we both know you care a little," you call back to her. You then head down the stairs with the bag of ice and hand it to Dottie.

She stiffens as you hand it to her, but accepts it. "Thanks..." she says cautiously, putting the ice on the bruised shoulder.

"You doing alright after this past week?" you ask. She looks confused. "Like, how?" she asks.

"I don't know," you admit. "It's just been a hell of a week, hasn't it?

"Hell of a couple a' months," sighs Dot. You take a seat next to her in the fog of cigarette smoke that seems to surround her.

"All that shit with Deula..." you say. She nods. "An' now you went an' appointed her tha' new Harley."

"Woooah, Dot," you interrupt. "Deula's around because I figured we might be able to save her. She's all twisted up upstairs. Somebody made her into another me. I figure we can point her in the right direction at least. And she is definitely NOT the 'new Harley'." You almost retch.

Dot lets herself laugh at having gotten to you. "Yeah, well, I'da killed her right out if I were you. Right when she walked in here tha' first time."

"If I listened every time one of you told me to kill another one," you tell her, "there wouldn't be anyone left. Besides, you were the one who brought her in."

"I knew you wouldn't kill her," she says.

"I guess you know me pretty well."

>wat say
Hey, I almost never lie. Tell me where I lied to that nurse.
>qm kept letting us try and talk to holly before she got killed
>letting us talk to dot

pls no
Well, other then stab a bitch, any thoughts?

Irons is going to try and call down some thunder for the job today. Any ideas on what route he might try'n take?
Not to get all sentimental or anything, but when this whole 'Joker' thing started, I just wanted to get one good thing out of this. I didn't care what or how, as long as things were a bit better in some way when I exited.

I guess that's a big part of why I'm still here.
Kind of funny though, all this shit going on, and I feel like I got so wrapped up in making sure everybody didn't cut everybody else's throats, and finding ways to trying to get you guys out of here before shit hit the fan; that I never got around to asking what everybody else wanted. Or what you wanted.
>but when this whole 'Joker' thing started, I just wanted to get one good thing out of this.
when this all started we just wanted to not be be killed by the gang off hand because we werent 'joker' enough
"I mean on the one hand, I trust you, I think you're funny and despite how you might come off sometimes, I know you give a damn."
"On the other hand, well, no, that's about all I got really."
"Besides, I can't exactly let you take all the heat for Duela. I let her out. You really expected me to leave you holding the bag like that?"

"Any thoughts on anything?" you ask her. "Other than killing Deula, I mean. Irons is going to call down some thunder over our job today. Any ideas on what he might try?"

She thinks. "I... don't know, Boss," she says. "I can chase 'em, but this chessboard bullshit ain't my bag. All dagger, no cloak, you know? Still, way he's always worked before was that he'd wait for you to... do what you do, you know?

Thinkin' they're definitely keepin' track of any broadcasts, at least, since you pretty much tell 'em when you're gonna do somethin'. An' I'm guessin' they know you got Deula now, too."

"Think they know what we're gonna do next?" you ask.

"Boss, I don't even know what we're doin' next."

"Me either," you say. "I guess Deula does, though."

"Givin' her a chance to cut loose might be a good thing, though," she admits. "It'll make us look like we ain't got a plan while we move around under their noses."

"Remember though- she can make plans, but you guys are in control. If she pulls at the leash too much... put her down," you tell her.


"See, Dot. That's the thing," you say. "I trust you, I think you're funny and despite how you might come off sometimes, I know you give a damn."

You sit back in your seat. "Not to get all sentimental or anything, but when this whole 'Joker' thing started, I just wanted one thing. Know what that was?"

She shakes her head.

"To not get killed," you tell her. "But since then, I made a promise to myself- I want to get one good thing out of this. I don't care what or how, as long as things are better in some wan when I leave."

She lights a cigarette, not looking at you- but you can tell she's listening.
That was only for the first couple days or so while we were considering cleaning house and starting over with mole-proof staff before going "fuck, I actually like these crazy bastards."
"I guess that's why I'm still here. All this shit going on, and I feel like I got so wrapped up in making sure everybody didn't cut everybody else's throats, and finding ways to trying to get you guys out of here before shit hit the fan... that I never got around to asking what everybody else wanted. Or what you wanted."

Dot goes rigid again, something you've come to recognize. Next comes an off-handed comment to diffuse the situation.

"I just want this whole mess over with." There it is. You nod to her.

"Just remember," you tell her, "you hunted Deula down, but I let her out. I'm not going to leave you holding that bag."

You get up. "See you later, Dot," you say, starting to walk away.

"I wanted you to be like the old guy," she says. "Or like I thought you was."

"When?" you ask.

"Either time. Would make this a hell of a lot easier." She looks up to you. "You can't save everybody, Boss. I seen it a bunch of times. Most of the time, nobody gets out. Sometimes one person dies."

"This time, everybody does," you tell her. Then you remember Holly. "Everybody that's left."

She leans back in her chair, and exhales a cloud of yellow-white smoke. "Best get ready to whittle down that list, then."
"Fine. But you're walking away from this when it's all over."

"You're walking away from this when it's all over," you tell her. "You're the boss," she says, her attention returning to her smoking.

From the railing above, Deula watches, twisting her short red hair between her fingers.

The next day, you get ready to go visit the others. First up, Nightjar. Deula is already here- you suspect she never returned to her own base last night.

"You have your own hideout now. You can stay there, you know." She smiles.

"I wanted to be here bright and early for our show. Anywhere we should avoid?" she asks.

"The others'll show you. Otherwise go nuts, sis." You have a feeling she'd planned on doing just that.

You head out to the Iceberg Lounge before noon, ready to meet Nightjar. The front face of the building is undergoing some renovations. They are recovering from some damage. When you enter, you are greeted by a woman in dark leggings, a leotard, and a bowler cap, a shock of her blond hair hanging over her face. Whatever passes for a Bunnygirl for Penguin, you assume.

When she sees you, she waves you back to meet Nightjar in a private booth.

"You sure this place is just a nightclub, Nightjar?" you ask, pointing back towards the woman leaving. "That's Lark," she tells you. "One of Penguin's hostesses. They've been overseeing Penguin's holdings. Raven's doing import/export, Lark's handling the properties and brokering, and Jay's handling enforcement."

"And you're stuck handling me," you say. "Tell me, do you have your own, uh... 'dress uniform?'"

You think she might be blushing, but you can't be sure. "I... had a test run here at the lounge once. Penguin said I didn't have to wear it any more after that."

"You don't say?"

"That's neither here nor there, Joker. You wanted to talk business, I'm assuming?"
"Well see about that Dot, I feel like the end may be closer than we think. Maybe."
"We both know there's only one name I'm actually willing to take off my list."
How're you fixed for manpower? I'm not going to dance around it, if that's alright. We could use some help. There's something big coming, I can feel it in my bones. I think you've spent enough time around clowns to know what that is.
I want to kill it.
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"That's right," you tell her. "Harvey's agreed to step in to help us break the feds. I know Penguin's gone legit, but we've got quite a team. From the looks of things, he's not just letting things in Gotham lie. He's keeping an eye on things- like he might be planning to come back."

Nightjar shuffles a few papers on the table in front of her.

"I... can't confirm that," she says. "But, hypothetically speaking... What would you be looking for?"

"His support," you tell her. "Weapons, money, manpower... For a while now we've been the only active gang on the streets, and even then our day-to-day businesses have been lacking. We took both Penguin's and Harvey's men in off the streets while the two have been out of play. We have a lot of support right now- some people you know, some you might not. Assassins, detectives, theives. They've all done well by me, and as a group, we can all help one another."

Nightjar interlocks her fingers and leans on the table. "You're own little Crime Family?"

"Something big is coming, Nightjar. I can feel it in my bones. I think you've spent enough time around clowns to know what that is."

She sits up straighter. "Yes... There's rumblings of it all over. The question is..." she leans in, and whispers to you. "Will Penguin move against him?"

"...What?" you ask. "Why wouldn't he?"

"Joker is... different," says Nightjar. "Penguin likes that you're in power; you're an ally, and a good one... But Joker is a threat. To everything." She stops, and sighs. "So no, I can't promise you his support if it comes down to HIM. I wish I could. But right now?

...I think something can be arranged."

"Thank you, Nightjar," you tell her, "I'm going to see a man tomorrow night who says he can tell me what's going on- he calls himself 'The Calculator.' Do you know him?"

She shakes her head. "I can ask around, but no, he doesn't sound familiar. I wish I could be of more help."

You shake hands with her.

Rather than shaking it, she holds it, and pulls you in close to her, as if hugging you. She whispers into your ear. "Mister Cobblepot has a dear old friend who just returned to town. They spoke the night the lounge was raided. After that, Penguin pulled out of the business. His name is Edgar Heed." She lets go of you, maintaining her stoic business face.

"You've been a great help, Nightjar. Thank you, for everything."

She nods, and returns to her paperwork in the dim booth.

Armed with the knowledge of this Edgar Heed and the Penguin's tenuous alliance, you head to Harvey's law firm. You can already hear sirens across town- and see fire. Deula's having all the fun while you're talking business. Typical.

When you arrive, you find Harvey shaving over a small sink in a small open bathroom. You wonder why he doesn't leave one side of his face unshaven like a razor advertisement, but decide against it. He's irritable enough without you provoking him.

"Heard you caught the girl," he says. "Heard you let her go."

"I flipped a coin," you tell him. He turns and points to you with the razor.

"Don't get cute."

"Look, Harv, I still need her. For a bit anyway. After that, you can have her."

"I want her in one piece," he says. "She wants to be a Dent? Fine. But I'm the one that's gonna cut her in two."

"Relax, Harv. She'll be fine. She's out doing god knows what now. Probably something fun. With explosives. And not stuck in- Look, nevermind. Point is, I know she's yours. And you've got her, after I'm done with her. Honest.

For now, though, I've got two names to run by you-"

"Shoot," he says.

"The Calculator."

"Never heard of 'im," he says, making a wide stroke with the plastic razor.

"Edgar Heed."

He jumps, and cuts himself. He turns, "You tellin' me The Egghead's back?"

"Struck a nerve with that one. Yeah, I've heard Edgar Heed's been poking around." You keep his alliance with Penguin a secret, for now. "Know him?"
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"One a' them schemin' types, like Penguin or Riddler. Weird egg fixation. He an' Penguin hung around each other because of their whole... bird thing." He rinses his face, and comes and sits in the office.

"See, Heed was tryin' to be a power broker. Plottin' out who should control what an' eggin'... PUSHIN' it along. He was smart, but eventually we caught on. He skipped town, an' we ain't seen him in a couple years. Guessin' he came back because so many people got taken out."

"Maybe..." you say. "Or maybe not."

Two-Face looks at you. "Thinkin' all this might be his doin, are ya?"

"Part of it. The rest... Well, I think it's clear who's involved."

"Worried about the Big Clown?" asks Harv.

"Well, yeah. I asked Penguin for his backing when he came back, but he said no. At least I've got a fifty-fifty chance with you."


"You know, kid, I like you," he says. "I didn't want to admit it, but you got somethin' I can respect. You been tryin' to find balance all this time. You ain't all bad, an' you ain't all good. Sometimes you're one, an' sometimes you're the other. I can respect that.

...But see, that's the problem, ain't it? You bein' around through the balance of everythin' else out of whack. So I gotta ask myself... if it comes down to it, isn't the best thing for me to do to make sure that both sides of the scales got equal weight again?"

"That breaks the rules, Harvey. You HAVE to flip. You can't do this."

"See... I been runnin' it over in my head, an' I don't think it does. An' I used to be a lawyer, so I'm real good at arguin' for either case. But we'll have to see what happens- who knows? You might get lucky.

Look on the bright side, kid. Until it comes to that, you got my boys' support."

You don't feel any better.
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You leave Two-Face's feeling abandoned and betrayed. They'd said they'd stand by you, until you're sure to need them. Then? They're gone. They ARE thieves, of course. Murderous, criminally insane thieves, but you thought they were YOUR thieves.

As you drive back to the Ace Chemical Plant, you curse the names of your allies. You arrive at the plant, and step onto the factory floor.

There you find your friends sitting among piles of military-grade weapons and money, laughing. Deula greets you with a smile. "Look what Santa brought, Brother!"

"I take it you guys had fun? I heard the sirens. What happened?"

"You know the warehouse they keep all the parade floats in over across the way?" says Dwayne.


"Yeah, well don't bother learnin' it, because it ain't there no more. Deula had us take em' and put em' over by the armory the feds use. And by "over by" I mean "inside of."

"I thought they could use a parade to lift their spirits!" she says.

"I got to drive a parade float over a lot of guys. Like, a LOT of guys," says Dot. "I...might not be able to kill your sister just yet."

"That is so sweet of you, Dorothy," says Deula cheerfully.

"We got in, gassed the place, and cleaned out the weapons. Took out a lot of soldiers too." He shows you one of the guns. "This stuff's nice, an' even if we don't use it, it all goes for big money on the black market."

"I'm glad you all enjoyed yourselves," you tell them.

"What about you, Boss? Any info?" he asks.

"Penguin's going to support us, up until the Joker shows up. Same for Two-Face."

"I coulda told you that boss," he says. "They're gonna want to bide their time an' see what happens. See who comes out on top, ya know?"

"And that won't be YOU!" taunts Deula. Dottie jabs her in the shoulder with a fist. She turns to Dot, and mouths the word "ouch," rubbing the sore spot.

"Jus'... worry about what you can get," he says.

"Nightjar says a man named Edgar Heed is in town, and he convinced Penguin to fly the coop," you continue. "Two-Face says he's an ex-power broker. He thinks he might be involved in this whole mess."

"Well that's somethin'," he says. "More'n we had anyways. Now we know where to start lookin'. I'll have Spike see if he can get a handle on this guy."

You nod.

"Do it. As for the rest of us, I'm sure you're all... tired from your playdate today. Maybe tomorrow we can all share in the festivities. And then the next day- we meet with 'The Calculator.'"

You start to walk up to your office. "And Deula? Go home," you tell her. She waves to you as you walk up the stairs.


"Riddle me this," asks Nygma, his hat over his face, and his feet propped on Irons' desk. "Why do men die before their wives?"

"Because they want to," says Irons.

"You got one!" says Nygma, sitting up. "But you still haven't got a clue. She never showed, did she?"

"She'll be here," he says.

Nygma smiles. "Obviously she was playing you from the beginning, you poor-"

The door slams open. A woman carrying two huge paper bags crashes into the room.

"Sorry I'm late!" she says in a thick New Jersey accent. "I got a little lost. I figah'd I'd stop an' pick up a little somethin'. You guys like doughnuts? Or is that just a pi- I mean a cop thing?"

Irons gives Nygma a smug look. "Well... I'll be damned," says Nygma under his breath. He recovers, though. "You realize it's past midnight, right?" asks Nygma, recalculating what's going on.

"So I got a lot lost," the woman shrugs. She drops in a chair in front of Irons and starts rummaging through her bags. "So you wanted me, right? Called me all the way in here because-"

"My dear," says Nygma. "There's a Question, and there's an Answer, but there's no one ASKING."
Huh, this'n might take a minute
If it comes down to it, between Red's claymore mine vest to make chunky salsa out of anything remotely near the front of us the one time. The Joybuzzer and everything else we've probably got this.
She rolls her eyes. "Oh my GOD," she says. "How da' you put up with this guy? Nygma, you always been a second stringah, an' nobody cares about ya' little wordgames. That's why everybody just tunes ya' out whenevah ya' talk."

Irons smiles. "Doctor, I think you and I are going to get along very well. Let me fill you in on the situation..."

>back at Ace Chemicals

You awaken the next morning, ready to come up with some kind of plan. To your chagrin, Deula is already here.

"What do you think of my new costume?" she says. "I dyed my hair; we match now!" Sure enough, her hair is green, and she's wearing a horrible mishmash of corsetry and top hats. She looks like a mall threw up.

"It's awful," you tell her. "You look like a hooker. Go change it."

"Little sister's growin' up an' big brother can't take it," says Dwayne to Dottie. She stifles a laugh.

"We have a brand image to maintain here, people," you tell them. "I've have striven to maintain the classical Joker image. What she's wearing is an abomination."

"Says the man who wears an ORANGE bow-tie," says Deula slyly.

"That is DIFFERENT, Deula, and-"

"Believe me," says Dwayne, separating you. "I would love to watch you two pick each other apart all day, but we got work to do."

He sits the two of you down in some chairs. "Now think," he says. "We got men we can call on, an' we're up to our eyeballs in guns, an' we got so much cash we can't spend it. What do we do now?"

"We don't have TOO many men," clarifies Dot. "There just ain't that many boys around these days. Most of 'em got picked off by the cops, or the feds, or killed. By us, mostly."

You wonder how high the deathtoll in this city has risen since you took over.

"So what I'm thinkin' we need is somethin' to hurt 'em," she continues. "Like we did with the train."

That is of course assuming a few things but meh.
We should hire a metropolis villian to bust the new prison for gotham inmates there.

Its totally out of our usual MO, so it should blind side the FBI.
Let Dot finish her thought, it'll be good practice for when/if we go kamikaze.
"Or..." says Dwayne, "We could play it safe, an' increase our territory. With the weapons we got we might be able to militarize a whole area. It'd keep us from havin' to hide all the time. They'd know where we was, but damned if they could do anythin' about it."

"But we've got two Jokers now, don't we?" says Dottie. "Which means we got two big green bugzappers for drawin' attention from any real crime."

"So alright, boss. Let's get thinkin," says Dwayne. "What's the plan?"

Dot giggles to you quietly beside you. "Orange bow-tie..." she says, chuckling. "An' they said the Old Joker was crazy."

>what is your plan
>what is your goal
>what gear do you need to do it
>who do you need to do it
>how will you accomplish it
What do we know about the headquarters the FBI is using? Location, size, all that. Do we have any of that?
We could always take a page out of Nocturna's book and balloon drop the Federal headquarters.
It'd even tie in with the parade float bit.
I have an idea. We combine the need to hit irons with a territory grab.

Essentially we know they will attack us. How can they not? even if we lock down an area we would end up with someone like the bat knocking over our guys and letting the FBI in.

So we need to set another trap.

Lock down a section of the city and a big old building as bait. But in a way really obvious to the FBI but not the public

The FBI gets drawn in and assaults the place, we gas the entire city block from the sewer covers. Does not even have to be full on joker gas really.

With regards to chemicals we can plan a hit on a uni or such to grab chemistry proficient folk to mass make it. Or get the chem plant working on the sly, if we can do that.

Meanwhile we still want that mass break out in metropolis, so hiring one or two of their villians would be a good idea. Maybe spend a bit of cash for another villian to act as distraction for the man of steel while our second goes to bust the prison open.
Any idea what the weather forcast is for the next few days?

If we get heavy fog then this would not be a bad idea all told.
"Maybe I could even get Coal to whip up something I'd been saving as a tool for gassing the swearing in. Two words.
Smilex. Fireworks."
I feel like given where we are now we need to focus.
Of course using the sewer is an option. Then we could just pipe the gas into the air vents and drive them out into our guys' waiting arms.
on what exactly?

We have money, guns and with the support of two other gangs, we have guys.

(speaking of which, we need lefty and righty back).

Dotty's plan is siege warfare 101, but that does not work in a situation with someone like the batman mucking about, as they just poke holes in your defences everywhere. It would be a very painful game of attrition.

But hitting Irons is getting more guesswork without the man making a move of his own.

The only thing i can say is getting the gotham inmates back into gotham is the only way we end the legitimacy of this siege.
Dwayne's plan*
sorry, misread.
Well obviously we know where they live. We delivered a Jack-in-the-box there.
We need to focus our forces on tagging Irons and afterwards we militerize a section of the city.
Hell theres no reason we can't just use the FBI building purely out of spite if not tactics.
>you left it at police headquarters, and he came to see it
Gassing the headquarters and pushing them into the waiting arms of a meat-grinder isn't siege warfare.
It's hunting.
Might do well to do this bit after Calculator then. He probably knows.

"What do we know about their headquarters? Location, size, anything?" you ask.

Dwayne shakes his head. "They ain't operating out of the police HQ. That's all we know. Nearby, though, probably. Could be anywhere, since they don't do dispatches from there."

"That's something we need to find out then," you say. "Once we find it, we hit it from above, like Nocturna. With a parade balloon, maybe."

"Stealing jokes now, Brother?"

"Making them better, Sister. And some nice Smilex Fireworks.

But before that, we need to do a territory grab- but not in the way you're planning, Dwayne. Instead, we do it on the sly. We secure an entire area around the stadium, and make sure the feds know it. They're sure to hit us, and when they do- we gas the whole block. Not with the real stuff, of course. But it'll give us a chance to go through and pick off the feds one by one."

"That'll take a lot of gas," says Dwayne.

"We have two chemical plants," you tell him. "This one's shot, but we can get Coal moved to the Axis plant for a while. She can guide things, with the men, and we should be able to churn out a lot of the stuff in a short time."

"Not THAT short of a time," says Coal, having overheard you. "But I have got a solution- steam vents. They carry steam all through the city through the sewers. Have you ever seen one break? It mists the entire area. Simply connect a few barrels to a central pipe in the sewers, and blow through the streets at key points. The streets should be poisoned just fine."

"Very nice, Coal," you tell her. "Which leads me to the last part of the plan- the only way we'll ever end the siege is to destroy its legitimacy. And to to that, we need the inmates back where they belong- Running the Asylum."

"But they're in Metropolis," says Dwayne. "An' Metropolis is out of our jurisdiction."

"Then we hire someone whose jurisdiction it's in," you tell him. "Any ideas?"
We do not know there headquarters.
Unless you have a good idea how to find out?

If Calc fails then we could try abduct some FBI agents. They must have some back and forth between them and the police station HQ. Get an agent or three, interrogate with the killer truth syrum.

From there we can plan. The problem is if we wait too long Irons is going to take the ball game back off of us. And i do not want to let him dictate pace. We have the man on the metaphorical ropes, lets not let him bounce back up.
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"You're plannin' to hire a merc to cause a breakout? In Metropolis? Do you know what's IN Metropolis?"

"I do, Dwayne. In Metropolis are the keys to taking back this city."

He sighs.

"Magpie, I guess? She's been over there. Ivy might could do it, but she's out somewhere else. I mean there's slim pickings, Boss..."

"Dwayne, there is HIM," says Dottie.

"NO," he says firmly. He thinks hard.

"D, you know I'm right," says Dot. "Ain't nobody else we got ties to that could do it."

"Who are we talking about, guys?" you ask.

Dottie breathes deeply. "Winslow Schott. The Toyman. Joker had a business deal with him, an-"

"Yeah, he knows," says Dwayne. "Holly spilled it."

"Well, Toyman's the only reliable contact we got in Metropolis who could handle this. The only one we can go to besides them, anyway. And Toyman's sure to keep them out of our business."

"And who is 'them?'" you ask.

"That's one thing that you don't need to know. Hopefully ever," says Dwayne.

"Dwayne, can this person be trusted?" you ask.

"Absolutely not," he says.

"Yes," says Dottie.

"...I guess we have no choice. We'll call him and set up a breakout. Hopefully they can find their ways back to the city on their own. Dwayne, call Winslow."
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Dwayne silently dials the phone, and hands it to you. The number redirects through a relay, straight to the phone the Toyman is using.

You hear someone pick up on the other in. A flat, echoing voice sounds on the other end. "Hello," it says.

"Is this Mr. Schott?" you ask.

"Oh my, no," says the hollow voice. "Mr.Schott was my father. You can call me the Toyman, if you please."

"Alright, Toyman," you say. "This is the Joker."

"Which Joker?" it asks. There is a dreamy, singsong quality to the voice. Like a broken doll's voicebox.

"The boy. The new one," you tell him.

"Junior. And what can I do for you, Joker?"

"Have you heard about what's going on in Gotham?"

"Oh my, yes," says the Toyman. "Such a sad state. My heart goes out to you, Joker."

"Well maybe there's something you can do about it. The prisoners from here are being taken to Metropolis. A place called Stryker's Island."

"And...?" he asks, emotion entering his voice. You can't tell what, though.

"I'd like you to break them out. All of them."

"You're joking," he says flatly.

"I never joke. ...Okay, I joke a lot. but not this time. Look, I-"

"Okay," says the Toyman.

"Listen, we hold the keys of Gotham, Schott. I want the people to be- wait, what?"

"Okay," he repeats.

"I mean I had a whole speech planned and every-"

"Not necessary. Just the fee."

"And what IS the fee, Toyman?"

"I'll send you a bank account number."

"And...?" you ask expectantly.

"And.... you transfer money into it," he says.

"How MUCH?"

"Just keep going until I tell you to stop." The Toyman hangs up.

"Well boss?" asks Dwayne. "What did he want?"

"I think he wanted... A lot. But he said he'd do it. So... That's a win, right?"

But it doesn't feel like a win.
Won't feel like a win till we see irons stand up and weather the shit storm on TV for fucking losing so many men and so much resources to have all the loons get back out anyway.
Also to some jackass random nobody, and a 16 year old girl random nobody.
>deula is actually your age.
Well not just nobody, the joker juniors.
Oh? Good for her then. We should go drinking with guys and take her with.
If it wasn't for everything being horrible.
I mean, we're probably going to have to knock over another bank or two at least to get to the price point Toyman wants.

But this (in theory) will break out all the rest of the loonies from Metropolis' prison, and then Supes will go and deal with them.

But the prison's blown to bits, where oh where will we put them?

Why, back in the newly re-built and "better security" of the new Arkham facility!

I'm still expecting original Joker to come riding in soon-ish (maybe on a blimp or something) and celebrate the "release of Gotham" by subjecting everyone in the city to a case of Smilex laughter.
Eh, us and the guys'll be fine.
>With THE guys
>Badgering CK about hitting on Duela
>Duela pestering the shit out of Dot, possibly pointing and laughing.
All i want is for our psychotic little sister to be torn between her psychosis and her actual adopted family.
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You all sit around the room after you've explained the situation to the others. Everyone else seems uncomfortable too.

"He was the safest choice, though," says Dot. "You made a good decision, Boss."

"We don't HAVE to pay him, do we?" asks Deula. "I mean, we're the Joker. That's our thing."

"Old Boss didn't pay debts," says Dwayne. "The rest of us did. Either Top Hat took it off the top of takes, or, worst come to worst, we all pooled in from our own cuts. Not payin' saves you money here and there, but it jacks up prices when you really need somethin' later. But that ain't what you gotta worry about with Schott- Schott'll never leave you alone if you try to screw him. Ever. Guy ain't a robot but he damn well seems like it. He just keeps goin'."

"We'll pay," you say. "It's good business."

"I keep expecting you to WAAHK after you talk like that, Little Penguin," says Deula.

"You would know, right 'Penguin's Daughter'? I mean you're even wearing the top hat," you taunt.

She is spitting mad.

"For tomorrow, we'll hit the block. Take out as many feds as we can. We'll see how Toyman's breakout pans out. Then the next day we visit The Calculator, and get to the bottom of all this. If he's got the location of the feds- THEN we go all out. Deula, you'll be the one to pull the trigger. You're not immune to it like we are. We'll stay inside and lure them in, then pick them off."

You all separate and go to sleep, ready for the next day's work.

>the next day

"Everything at least a block away from the stadium, sir," says one of Irons' aides. "They've militarized it all. They're blockading themselves in, preparing for a siege."

"Is the girl with them?" Irons asks. The aide shakes his head. "We haven't seen her, sir."

"So... Uh, what's goin' on?" asks the blonde woman.

"The problem we asked you to solve, miss," says Irons. She pushes her face close to the computer monitor, and squints. "They tryn' ta' keep ya out?" she says.

"They're trying very hard to keep us out," says Irons.

"Then they wantcha' in," she says.

"I could have TOLD you that!" says Nygma irritably.

"Yeah but in how many woyds?" says the woman, sticking out her tongue at Nygma. He looks around, making sure no one else is looking, and does the same thing back. She seems pleased with herself.

"You're fully aware of the situation, of course," says Irons to the woman. "Two imposters claiming to be the Joker. Both of them are deeply disturbed."

"Hey, who ain't?" she laughs.

"...We need insight into how they're thinking. What they're doing. What they want," says Irons.

"Easy. They want ya out," she says.

"Yes, yes," says Irons. "But besides that."

"I ain't followin'," she says flatly.

"Long term plans. Motivations. We need something we can use."

"...Why would you plan that far ahead? You're just gonna forget."

"Look at their psychology, Doctor. What's driving them? That's what we need."

She laughs, and falls back in a chair. She spins it. "You don't get it, do ya? Ain't nothin' drivin' 'em. They're just lettin' go of the wheel an' coastin' down the highway." She stops spinning. "It ain't propah them takin' his name though. Not after..." she starts to pout, tears welling up in her eyes. "Putcha men everywhere else," she says, a hint of anger in her voice.

"Everywhere else?" asks Irons.

"Just hold 'em in there. They gotta die eventually. All you gotta do is make sure they don't leave."

He nods in agreement, and calls in an order to the Clock King- guards are to be put in place in the blocks surrounding the reinforced area, but not inside it. A siege is to be prepared.

"A siege depends on a scarcity of resources. It would take ages for them to wait them out," says Clock King to himself. "And that's if they decided to let the civilians die."
> It would take ages for them to wait them out

>it would take ages for the feds to wait the jokers out
"...Just what ARE they thinking?" thinks Fugate.

>near the stadium

"Uh... Deula?" you say into the radio. "The soldiers aren't coming in. They're keeping their distance."

"They know it's a trap," says Dottie.

"Probably," says Deula. "Don't worry about it. Are the boys in gas masks?"

"Since we started. But Deula, they're not-"

"So remember how we agreed to only hit the blocks you picked?" she says. You feel a rumble, and hear a loud burst. Steam pipes burst in the streets around you, and a chemical sprays into the air. It creates a warm mist that feels very nice in the cold November air. It would be pleasant were it not poison.

"So we had some extra," says Deula. "And we decided... why not go wild?"

"And Coal agreed to- What am I saying, of course she did."

Down the street, across the barricades, you hear a chorus of laughter. Strained, painful laughter.

"One other surprise," says Deula. "Remember how we agreed to use non-lethals?"


"Well... Surprise!"

>back at fbi headquarters

"They gassed themselves too, sir. They gassed everything. And it's lethal. We're receiving... huge fatalities. We believe it's coming from the steam vents; we're having them shut down. Nobody can even approach the contamination area."

"...Oopsie," says the girl.

Irons puts his face in his hand.

"Okay," says the woman. "So they was a step ahead of us. I wasn't expectin' it. Can't make an omelette without without breakin' a few eggs. But now I got 'em pegged, see? Next time-"

"Doctor, do you know how many people are dead?"

"Way I figure it you're lookin' to avoid any more though, ain'tcha?"

"...What's your plan, then?"

Nygma just smiles and watches the show.
Considering i wanted to use the none lethal gas to grab some of the feds, that and it was a compromise so we could have waaay more gas.
Given where we are on the morality scale, I'd say it's pretty cozy. At one point in here we had somewhere between 8oz and a pint of that stuff basting our insides.
We're totally fine with smilex. And that delightful tingle even.

Back at base, you have another argument.

"You told me you were immune before," Deula says. "I knew it wouldn't kill you."

"That's not the point," you tell her back at base. "I wanted to at least get one of them. We need to know where they're based out of."

"It's fine," she says. "You're meeting The Computer tomorrow night."

"To be fair, I may have... made some suggestions to her," says Coal. "She's less willful than you, at least."

We don't even know what The Calculator knows. For all we know he could be another trap. No more changing plans, Deula. It'll get one of us killed," you tell her.

"Keeping with your plan would've got you killed today, though. And we didn't change the plan. Just... Nudged it," she says.

"Old Boss always used to say 'can't make an omelette without breakin' a few eggs,'" says Dot. "Deula saved us, but she coulda killed us by being an irresponsible shithead. It's our own fault; we got careless. We were waitin' for them to come to us, but not expectin' them to think about it. We didn't have a plan B."

"How many innocents did you kill, Deula?" you ask.

"How many innocents do you think would be outside during a police raid?" she comes back. "And even if I did kill them, they'd have gotten themselves killed anyway."

"Uh... Guys?" says Dwayne, looking at his phone. He turns it to you.


The son of a bitch did it.

"...How?" you ask. "Don't they have..."

"Hell if I know," says Dwayne. "Guy's got a buncha weirdo gadgets. Got no idea how he keeps HIM off his back."

"He's one of the best," says Dottie. "Toyman used to run with the President a long time ago. Riddler, too. One of 'em did, anyway. Back in the Legion days."
Huh, that's kinda cool.
And Duela? Thanks.
>we should probably have a non-argument with Duela at some point.
Actually kind of cool of duela to do what she did, since it covered our ass for not thinking forward.
Still not forgiven her for knock (how is he mind? or is that a kind of no contact till he contacts thing?)
But i at least dont mind her now.

Brock should take a deep breath and chill. Shit is still going according to plan.
By the by, for the next act, wanna hold a funeral for all the FBI agents we've murdered?
Agreed. Plus Duela's proving to be a credit to the team in her own way. Worst case scenario we go back to plan A and skin her.
Best case scenario we don't drive her and everyone else straight to the old man by being a shit head AND get another weird murder buddy/family member that gives a damn, about our group of monsters specifically. Meant to talk to her last night anyway.
>Everybody wishes we were more like the old man or Brock in the election.
>nobody seems to get that Brock doesn't do either or
Even when the makeup is on it doesn't really hide his face.
Just because he might take it off doesn't mean he isn't the Joker.
You know?
He's not Harvey. It's not Good or Evil.
It's more of a case of "Both. At the same time."
Pretty much the MO of the joker. True agency of chaos. On that i agree. i was just wondering what you meant to be more like brock or the old man.

There was just anons who were trying to push Clown knight joker too hard.

You try to piece everything together.

"Okay, so here's what we seem to know now- One, the city's on lockdown by the feds. Two, the feds have a 'Brain Trust' that we don't know. Three, a power broker named Edgar Heed is in town. Four, the feds are moving criminals to Metropolis. Five, this has been being planned for a long time- Holly said so back when it started, and Irons confirmed it. Six, we've just broken all the criminals OUT of Metropolis, and now owe a great deal of money to Toyman. And seven, somewhere, the Joker is laughing at us."

"That's not a lot to go on," says Dottie.

"It really isn't," you say. "And I don't know what we can do about it. Let me think on it.."

Later, you approach Deula. "Look, Deula- thanks. I guess in your own way, you kinda saved us out there today. You just frustrate me. Holy shit, Deula, do you frustrate me. And you've done some terrible things to me and my friends. It's hard for me to get past that."

She squints at you. "What do you want?"

"...What? Nothing. I'm apologizing," you tell her. "You covered our ass for not thinking forward."

"Well, yeah," she says matter-of-factly. "You're just bad at this."

"Deula, we're not enemies. There's no reason for us to be. We're both in the same situation, and we can both make the best of it."

"We aren't enemies," she agrees. "We're nemeses. We're each other's greatest rivals, forced together by circumstance. And when all this is over, we'll have our final battle on a rooftop, or in a funhouse or something. And then, just at the last moment, I'll kill you- and then I'll be the only one."

"Deula... that's not how it works," you tell her. "Not in the real world. You're chasing some kind of fantasy life. That's not what this is. That's not what we are."
I really like this picture. If nothing else, I bump the thread
I didn't mind it. I feel like he still has the same base drives as he did. It's just circumstances required, let's say adaptation.
>Brock looks at all the shit happening around him and realizes that the guy everybody is scared shitless of is basically a more heartless, more experienced version of him.
"I don't get it, I can be that guy. I know I can and have been. I just mostly choose not to. What's so horrifying about 'dick-me'?"
I feel thats because we have never met the actual joker, and would probably understand very very quickly what were missing.
"Duela, when I say this place is like a family to me I mean that. In your own way, that includes you too. If I didn't give a damn you think I wouldn't have just slit your throat or left you to Harvey?"
"I've got a sneaking suspicion when this is all over, I won't be able to walk away. I'm not saying you have to. It's just, for all our differences, I'm not quite kidding about the 'sister' bit. Look after yourself. Make sure the rest of my family makes it out alright too if you can. Alright?"
"Would you believe Arkham and Gotham in general is the only place I really feel at home?"
"Some rivalries can be friendly you know."
Sure, he's a murderous fuck with a weird bird fixation, but Cobblepot's got some really good taste.
Man that is soppy. If you want those themes work them in over time. Right now it just sounds like were fucking with her.
Not to mention, she has done like, 2 jobs with us?
Really not the time to go the whole "You are family I care about" Route.
We don't have time and she goes for theatrics.
Nah, but she is basically "shadow-us", there's gotta be common ground.
Then your basically painting everyone as targets to fuck with us.

Her desires are shadow us, the drives are different though. Got to be careful, dont presume just because we have her on side she actually cares about our little family more than its useful to her.

Im not saying Dont do that in regards to getting closer relationship, but just dont jump down the deep end first time in.
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"Have you seen what we're wearing? Have you seen what we've been doing? I hijacked a train dressed as a cowgirl. You literally tipped a bank over and poured the money out. We had a race through the city in silly themed cars with a man dressed as a bat. And just today we killed so many people it should classify as a war crime, and the biggest thing on your mind is apologizing because you thought you were mean to me. And you were, by the way. Totally mean. Now tell me- who's living in a fantasy world?"

"Still you, Deula. Probably still you."

"You just remember that when you're setting off poison fireworks from a giant inflatable Snoopy in a few days," she says.

"I was thinking Garfield, actually"

"The Schreck's Cat is better if you want a local flavor, though."

"Oh, good idea. I- Nevermind. The point is, Deula, I've been building something here. You just kind of accidentally ended up part of it. Duela, when I say this place is like a family to me I mean that. In your own way, that includes you too. If I didn't give a damn, don't you think I would have just slit your throat or left you to Harvey?"

I've got a sneaking suspicion when this is all over, I won't be able to walk away. I'm not saying you have to. It's just, for all our differences, I'm not quite kidding about the 'sister' bit. Look after yourself. Make sure the rest of my family makes it out alright too if you can. Alright?"

"...Are you trying to trick me or something?" she asks.

"I'm just saying - some rivalries can be friendly, you know?"

"But not the ones people remember," she says.

"I just don't get why you're so concerned with us fighting for the Joker's title, and how I'm 'doing it wrong.' The only difference between me and the old boss is that I take an active interest in my affairs."

"You're nothing like him," says Deula. "You're way too worried about everybody's feelings when you should just be stepping on them."

"Deula, have you even met the Joker?" you ask.

"Well, no... But-"

"Well I haven't either. But I have walked a mile or two in his shoes. So the best we're both doing is guessing. It doesn't matter. We're always arguing about 'Joker' this and 'Joker' that, but that's now all of who we are, is it?"

"No," says Deula. "That's exactly who I am."

You shake your head and leave her. Another time perhaps, but you take solace in the fact that you did try. Sometimes that counts for a lot.
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You decide to spend the next day preparing for your meeting with the Calculator. As you planned, you bring along Crazy Quilt and Nocturna- a detective, and a mesmerist. The two of them should help you find your way out of any traps.

The meeting place is, to your surprise, the basement of an internet cafe. "Spike said he was a shut-in," you tell the others. "Guess that's the first lie he was told."

The three of you head down the darkened stairs, the Quilt leading the way through the dark.

Downstairs, seated behind a desktop terminal, you find a man. A very average looking man.

"Joker... or, whatever. Miss Knight, Mister Dekker. I am the Calculator. I sent word to Mister Webster that I'd like to speak with you.

I know what you want to know, Joker. And I'll tell you." He adjusts his glasses. "For a fee, of course."

"Nocturna-" you start. He makes a dismissive motion. "Approach my desk," he tells you.

"There's no need," interrupts Quilt. "You're behind glass. I can see it."

"Right you are, Quilt," smiles The Calculator.

"So what's the fee? I've been burned by fees recently," you tell him.

"I'm aware. You're deal with Schott was quite a- well, that's giving too much away. Are you in, or out?"

"How do we know we can trust you?" asks Nocturna.

"Because you're going to pay me," he says. "And the Bureau wouldn't pay what I charge."

"What's the fee?" you repeat.

"$1,000 per question, unless I don't have the answer," he says. "You don't even need to worry about transfers. I'll do it myself."

"And if you don't have the answer?"

"I don't know," he says. "It's never happened."

>wat ask
Where is the original Joker?

"Who is the player behind the scenes?"
Just incase, there have been several Joker's.
Where is my predecessor?
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"Where is the Joker, Calculator? And I mean the Original," you ask.

"The original? In Gotham," he says. "That's one thousand."

You think for a minute. "Where is my predecessor?

"In Gotham," replies the Calculator. "That's two thousand."

"Who is the player behind the scenes?" you ask him.

"The Joker. Three thousand."
So: confirmed: The joker set this all up.
Asking the end goal is a no no in these situations, but if anons want to risk it go ahead.

"How long, roughtly, until irons has the plug pulled on him?"
What's the endgame on this lockdown thing? For clarity's sake, we both know it's not as simple as everyone's making it out to be. Care to explain?
What is the name that the batman's parents gave him?
>"What is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?"
Who precisely are the members of Irons' 'Braintrust'? The 'super villains' involved I mean.
Bail on this I suppose. Although this is vague enough to get hints, but no real answer right?
how much longer until my predecessor comes back to take control again?
Who are some people not currently allied with me that I could rely on against Joker OG?
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"What is the name that the Batman's parents gave him?" you tell him, giving him a big grin.

He genuinely laughs. "You're supposed to be the Joker, not the Riddler. 'Son.' And I'll give you that one for free."

"What is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?" you ask again, your grin getting wider.

"Is this guy serious?" whispers Dekker to Nocturna.

"11 meters per second," says Calculator, turning his monitor towards you. The top of the screen reads "GOOGLE." "And I'll charge you for that one. Four thousand."

"Okay, I get the picture," you say. "Who are the members of the Brain Trust? The super villains, to clarify."

"Edward Nygma, the Riddler. Arthur Brown, the Cluemaster. Temple Fugate, the Clock King. Edgar Heed, the Egghead. The Puzzler, real name unknown. The Questioner, real name unknown. Harleen Quinzel, or Harley Quinn. Five thousand."

"How long, roughly, until Irons has the plug pulled on him?" you ask.

"That depends on your actions. Six thousand."

"How much longer until my predecessor comes back to take control again?"

"That depends on your actions. Seven thousand."

"Those aren't answers," you tell him. "Those are evasions."

"I can't predict the future," he says.
"Take an educated guess"
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"Make an educated guess," you tell him.

"Soon," he says. "Very soon. And I am not liable for any incorrect information from a 'guess.'"

"Who are some people not allied with me that I could rely on against my predecessor?" you ask.

"Not allied with you? No one. Eight thousand."
Nah, that'll just piss him off.
"Where's the Brain Trust meet? The address."
That everything we need guys?
"Where is the FBI headquarters? The heart of their little operation"
(Boss, I said currently for a reason. Basically, the nutballs that could be reasonably recruited soon.)
What is the name the batman's parents wrote on his birth certificate?
Dude we asked that.
He does not know and it was an answer given for free to act as the joke between us.
I want him to admit he doesn't know.
>Yfw Brock has a hunch
>YFW he noticed Matches Malone was Bruce Wayne slumming a trilby, fake mustache and spirit gum scars that migrate about half an inch every so often.
>YFW he recognized the height, build, eye color, voice and jaw-line in Crime Alley.
>YFW it took everything he had not to pull a water pistol on Bats in Crime Alley.
>YFW Brock knows, he just doesn't care.
Best to not press it, mate. We don't need someone taking a hateboner to us, not right now.
Why were the people in the Brain Trust chosen?
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"Where is the FBI's Headquarters?" you ask.

He smiles. "Washington, D.C. Nine thousand."

"That wasn't what I meant, you dick!" you shout. "I meant the investigation. Where is the investigation's headquarters?"

"In an office building a few blocks from the Police Headquarters. I'll have the address sent to Mister Webster. Ten thousand. And I'd watch how many more questions you ask..."

"Where does the Brain Trust meet?" you ask.

"I'll send the address to Mister Webster. Eleven thousand."

"Why were the people in the Brain Trust chosen?" you ask.

"They're specialists. The most intelligent people in Gotham, each in their own way. Except for me, of course."

"Is there anybody I could reasonably recruit soon in town that I haven't already?" you ask.

"Matthew Thorne. Mary Loiuise Dahl. Charles Brown. Jenna Duffey. Roxanne Sutton. thirteen thousand."

You ask your final question. "What's the endgame on this lockdown thing? For clarity's sake, we both know it's not as simple as everyone's making it out to be."

"That's two, questions, I'm afraid." he tells you. "The answer to one, is to rid Gotham of crime."

"And the other?" you ask.

"Punishment. And that's fifteen thousand."

"That's all we need, guys." you tell them. You turn to leave.

"A pleasure doing business with you, 'Joker'. Should you ever need me again- be sure to call ahead."

The room behind the glass goes dark. You leave.
Pissing off an info broker is a bad idea.
It really is.
An info broker that's unwilling to admit they don't know something, is a shitty info broker.
He did admit it you dumbass.
He gave us it for free, which was stated before would happen. He just didnt want to be unable to give an "answer" for his own ego's sake and laughed at the fact he was doing it.
Son, if you want to work in Gotham, you learn to play the part. Don't go poking people in the pyscosis unless it's in a fight and you want them mad.
Who is batman?
Now either your super slow or a would-be-troll who thinks this is a great joke.
I atleast want to offer double if he can get us a real answer for that question.
The name and surname of human who is behind batmans mask? I have a feeling ge will call Batman, you know, Batman.
Wot? Do we know the batmans identity? If not, we might get the info or win calculator in his game.
Brock has the mental capacity and had the opportunity to piece it together.
He might just be saving it as a final 'fuck you' to his predecessor win or lose.
>About to die anyway
>Kill the mystery and reduce his nemesis to a mere man out of spite.
>Succeed in decapitating the Joker or what have you, tell him just as brain death sets in out of spite.
If this guy doesn't know he gives half answers.
Ergo, "who is the batman?" "the Batman I'd the batman'
Eh. I don't think he has really. Bats has worn kids gloves around us allot, which is weird.

We lack some info, and don't doubt the plot armor of the bat.
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You leave the Calculator behind in his basement- if he was really there at all. "Was that what you'd wanted to hear?" asks Nocturna, as you ride back to the Chemical plant. "Some of it," you tell her.

You call Spike and ask for the addresses. "Yeah, I got one. It's just an old office building; nothing special. We pass it all the time. And the other one... It's the same address. He just sent it twice."

Oh, that bastard.

"That's the headquarters of the FBI," you explain. "That's where we plan to hit. Soon."

You arrive back at the plant, and give the answers to the others.

"The Brain Trust names mean anything to you?" They're all frozen. "You mean... besides the obvious?" asks Dwayne. "Most of 'em."

"I've only heard of two of them," admits Deula.

"What about the others? The ones he said I could recruit?"

"Duffey's The Carpenter. Used to run with the Wonderland Gang, but she went solo. Builds lairs now. Roxanne's a stuntwoman got put up in Arkham for bein' a headcase with a deathwish. No offense, Dot," he nods to her. "Baby-Doll's a TV star with some kinda birth defect and brain problems, an' Matthew Thorne's the Crime Doctor. He's a doctor that does crime. That's... his thing. An' Charles Brown's the Kite Man."

"Charlie Brown is the Kite Man?" says Dot.

"Yes, Dottie. I feel it too. But we'll come back to it. Right now, we have serious business... like the fact that the Joker is in Gotham. And that this whole business is his fault."

"You knew that already, didn't you?" says Coal.

"We had suspicions, but never anything concrete."

"So you believe the man because... why?" she asks.

"Because, Coal, he's all we have. And he says he's making a move soon- just like I suspected."

"Punishment, though?" asks Coal. "What could he mean?"

"I don't know..."
Having a lair expert on staff, as well as a doctor that can do patchjobs would be radical. The others all have their uses, of course, but those two would be priority, I feel.

Plus. Jen Duffy is fucking adorable.
Crime and Punishment. What is this a fucking Jane Austin novel?
So, none of those necessarily sound bad but in character I'm having a hard time thinking up reasons to include Criminal Shirley Temple outside of the occasional bit.
>they're not all meant to be recruited. those are just possibilities
I know, I'm just saying.
Think we could speed up Arkham's rebuilding by sicc'ing Duffy on it?
Just make sure to include a whole mess of secret passages.
Nah, not necessarily. I mean obviously our cell needs like 8, but we're not Oprah.
Roxanne and Kite-Man might have their uses but for the time being we might not be bad off with a doctor on call.
Maybe the Duffy girl'd be useful.
Babydoll's pretty niche, but might be good for certain jobs.
In the meantime, I guess I gotta figure out what to do about Irons and the Brain Trust.
Going all out on them would earn us way more enemies than we've got friends and would weaken our position later.
I guess we could cloak and dagger the whole deal after a fashion.
I think we should mail the entire office block condolence cards about the recent FBI kill off. Then watch them just panic.
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"It's your punishment, obviously," says Deula. You shake your head. "Deula, I have a feeling that this is part of the whole reason I'm here. You, too. You got your 'invitation' thorough mysterious means, right?"

You turn to the others. "You always did say you weren't a Doctor, though, didn't you Coal? Then I'd say we have one. Matthew Thorne could be good to have around in case anyone gets hurt. And not only could the Carpenter could help us with the lair, but she could also help build props and things. Now that Red's gone, we need someone. She might even be able to help with Arkham. So those two are a priority."

"Aaaaaand?" says Dot, very seriously.

"...Aaaaand we'll wait on Charlie." You think Dot might be... pouting?

"Tomorrow we meet with them, and start preparing for our raid on their headquarters. And this time, we take everything we have."

You can barely sleep, jumping at every shadow in the room for fear of the Joker. The REAL Joker.

The next morning, you call Matthew Thorne. "Matthew?" you ask. "I'm looking for a Doctor." "A CRIME Doctor?" he asks slyly on the other end of the line. "Not really, no," you tell him, "we just need medical treatment if somebody gets hurt. Strictly under the table, though, if that counts." He breathes a sigh of relief. "Oh thank god," he says. "No torture? At all?" "I mean, if you want..." you tell him. "No! No, that's quite alright," he says. "I'll give you the location of my 'clinic.' Should you need me, I'll be here. I've not got anywhere else to go..."

Next, you call in The Carpenter. You give her your address. "This is the hideout you want remodeled? Be there in a minute. I'll give you a quote." She hangs up. She thinks it's a normal job, apparently, rather than recruitment into a legion of supervillains.
Because I'm pretty sure the only one without an exit plan would be Quinn, which would mean getting her, Irons, and then literally everyone else'd be after us.
Cracking Egghead would likely cost us what support we can lean on Nightjar and the girls for. Which means the only two things we'd really ought to concern ourselves with might be the 'names unknown' guys.
Actually she's not wrong. If we're balloon dropping this thing then an airborne rogue might not be a bad idea.
It depends on what we can talk him into.
We really should get some more knife-play practice in with Dot. If it really comes down to some stupid knife duel in the rain or some shit...well, best be ready.
True, also we need a fake rubber arm that we put a bomb in to prevent a case of the shakes.
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"You ever cleaned this place?" asks the Carpenter, as she steps into the plant. She is a tall woman in blue coveralls, heavy tools hanging around her waist. She looks strong, but still girlish.

"Just had it fumigated," you reply, "but this wasn't a regular house call, Miss Duffey. Tell me, how's business?"

"Lousy," she says. "Just Penguin. Everybody else skipped town. And if I ever have to cut another plexiglass iceberg I'm gonna puke." She sits down on her toolbox.

"Miss Duffey, how would you like to get all your business back..."


"...By joining my elite gang of Gotham's Greatest Supervillains?"

She laughs.

"You're way funnier than the old guy," she says.

"The greatest Supervillains I've ever met, at least. I think your mastery of construction and... power tools could pose a dangerous threat to the Fatman."

"Batman," she says.

"No, he really doesn't seem to care. But Irons has been locking up your customers, and he's threatening all of us. He has to go."

"I'm really more of a support and logistics kinda girl, Joker."

"Almost all of us are. That's why we play smart."

" And what's this smart plan of yours?" she asks.

You decide to not tell her about the poison fireworks and parade balloon plan just yet. "We rebuild Arkham to delegitimize the lockdown. We've been donating money to the reconstruction; if you would lend your help... "

"Public works?" she asks. She shrugs. "Eh, I'll take it. Count me in, Joker."

Duffey leaves.

"So... Boss...." says Dot. "I been thinkin'... You wanna drop in on the feds by balloon, right? An' that's from the air, right? So don't it stand to reason that we could justify bringin' Charlie Brown on?"

You silently nod to her, and pat her on the back. Then you hug her, before running off to get Dwayne.
You wait on the roof of the Chemical plant. You see a green speck in the distance, slowly... slowly... slowly floating

this way. A gust of wind blows, and it veers of course, but it rights itself. A few minutes later, the man lands heroically on the roof, the wind billowing the fabric of the kite on his back. It closes.

"You said I was needed, Joker?

"Mister Brown- could I call you Chuck? What are your skill, Chuck?" you ask.

"I'm a master of aviation. I can bend the winds to my will. And please, don't call me 'Chuck'."

"You can control the wind?"

"No, just use it. I was supposed to help Calendar Man with something back in October, but I got caught in a gust of wind. That generally doesn't happen, though. I also have an arsenal of diabolical kite-based equipment."

"Absolutely stellar, Kiteman. We'll just have to keep you away from trees. Now Chuck, I want you on my elite team. You have a very special skillset I believe we can make use of. Listen carefully..." You explain your plan to him, and he flies off.
>Kite Man was supposed to help Calendar Man -wreck- Brock's self confidence for a week or two.
The worst monster.
We should maybe bring the claymore vest if we're going to visit Irons.
He'd appreciate the thought.
>urge to ask Kite Man how he feels about football rising.
We've got an extraction plan right? At least some of the boys to cause a diversion to force police relocation? Well actually I guess the fireworks could work for that depending on dispersal. It'd seal everyone in the area in doors. Taking pot shots through open windows even would be ill-advised.
We'd just need some anti-smilex pills and gas-masks for the rank and file.
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The day is overcast; there's a storm out at sea.

You spend the rest of the day preparing for your raid. "There are three key players," you tell the others. "The Puzzler and the Questioner are both nameless, so they're our biggest targets. And of course, Irons. Harley's probably got a way out, and attacking Egghead will upset Nightjar and the hostesses. The others don't matter."

Down in the basement, Nocturna helps you prepare for a balloon drop, as you contact the Carpenter to help you create a basket and launching platform. Coal has provided the fireworks- standard gunpowder mixes, with a sprinkle of powdered SMILEX inside- the LITE stuff, you make sure. "We're going to have a lot of allies on the field," you tell her. "I don't want any of them getting hurt. We'll pass out the anti-SMILEX pills, just to be safe.

Final preparations made, you call in your allies to the plant. One by one they arrive. The Kite Man, The Carpenter, The Crime Doctor, The Ten-Eyed Man, Shame, Nocturna, Crazy Quilt, The Condiment King- all the greatest villains in Gotham, as far as you know. Harvey shows up soon after, Matches Mallone behind him. Matches tips his hat to you. Soon after, you have a surprise guest- The Penguin, your oldest ally.
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With him he brings a flock of birds- the woman he'd called 'Magpie,' Lark and two other girls you can assume are Raven and Jay, and Nightjar. Lefty and Righty, in their suits and bowler caps, follow Nightjar closely. Flanking the Penguin are two strange, red-suited women in masks, vicious knives hanging from their hands. He clenches his cigarette holder between his teeth. "I thought you were lying low?" you ask. He laughs. "My boy, after tonight, no one will be lying low. The floodgates have already been opened. The first of those taken to Metropolis are starting to come back. All thanks to you," he thumps you cheerfully on the back, and waddles off to find a seat.

Your friends all gather in a group- Dot, Dwayne, Spike, and Coal.

And behind the costumed villains, you see all the gang members- some in red-and-black ski masks, some in parkas and black masks, and many in clown paint.

You stand in front of all of them, Deula by your side. She graciously steps aside, and gives you a chance to make your final statements before what could be your greatest battle...

>wat say
So then it just becomes a sweep and clear for Irons and whoever else? We could probably work with that, but it seems like the kind of thing that'd just worsen escalation.
So the question is how to do this specific thing, exactly. Maybe take the guy hostage?
Irons needs to be caught, then we have a little chat with him on live TV explaining exactly how he fucked up, (prodding us) and that all the deaths are on his head, and all the villians are back anyway. etc etc.

I dont really care about the brain trust. Any files we can grab are a bonus.
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Oh motherfucker, you remembered the Kabuki Twins.

And...not much for speeches, really. Outline the plan. Point out the WHY....they tried to make it not fun for /any/ of us. So...let's have some fun on their tab, yeah?

Let's...leave out any mention of Joker OG. No need to dampen the night.
"This is probably the part where you guys expect some stirring speech, or some sort of lampooning. But to be honest, between the blockade, Arkham going sky-high, and Irons rolling his way around town...this just isn't that funny anymore. After tonight though? I suppose I can't promise things'll go back to normal"
>Laugh a little, mostly to yourself.
"I mean this is Gotham. With any luck we all ought to be able to breathe a little easier and see a little clearer though."
"And who knows? Maybe everyone else will too. Not to mix up my metaphors too much here, but this whole lockdown thing is killing us, and it's killing the city, drop by drop. We gotta get this thing's heart pumping again."
"Step one being removing the-no, no, that pun is god awful even for me. Let's just get our city back."
You know we're killing Questioner and Puzzler out of sheer paranoia right?
>Not opening with an oddly nonchalant and funny when juxtaposed "hey guys, great to see ya." before diving into the heavy stuff.
Gotta be super chipper about it though.
Friends, clowns, supervillians, lend me your ears! Ever since that Fatman Irons has come into our city, he has been destroying our way of life. No long can we make the city laugh, bring it into balance, or make obsecne amounts of money. We need to take Gotham back from this menace. Now get out there and carve a smile on the face Gotham!
That is more of a home turf speech.
It's also more of a duela speech.
We needed options so I posted one
It does have some nice parts about obscene amounts of cash though.
I wasn't ragging on you, just a bit confused. Does have some nice content though.
>one sec

"I'm... not much of one for speeches," you announce to the war party. Deula coughs quite rudely. "I know you guys probably expect some stirring speech, or some sort of lampooning. But to be honest, between the blockade, Arkham going sky-high, and Irons rolling his way around town... this just isn't that funny anymore. After tonight though? I suppose I can't promise things'll go back to normal. This IS Gotham, right?"

You laugh to yourself.

"With any luck we all ought to be able to breathe a little easier and see a little clearer though. And who knows? Maybe everyone else will too. Not to mix up my metaphors too much here, but this whole lockdown thing is killing us, and it's killing the city, drop by drop. We gotta get this thing's heart pumping again.

Most of all, though, the Feds have made this town no fun for anyone. So let's have some fun on their tab, yeah?"

There are cheers in the crowd. Most of the costumed villains remain silent, except Mitchell, who is making a tremendous mess celebrating with his mayo guns.

"We capture Irons. That's the only rule. He's going on TV to explain exactly how he fucked up. There's also two men to look out for- someone called the Puzzler, and someone called the Questioner. We don't know anything about either of them."

Everyone seems to hold their breath.

"Let's go kill the Fatman."
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Later that evening, a storm rages in Gotham. Streaks of lightning tear through the sky, and the sky roars with thunder. Curtains of rain hit the concrete.

Irons watches the storm from the window.

"Things have been Calm today," says Nygma. "Not a Peep, from Man nor Bird nor Beast."

Irons sees something out the window. "...What is that?"

Harley presses her face against the window. "Looks like... A kitty."

A grinning cat faced balloon descends from the sky, two green-clad figures in the basket below it, and one black-clad one. A stream of green flame bursts from it, and a brilliant green explosion shakes the office building.

Irons immediately leaps into action, rallying his troops for an attack on their headquarters.

You shake in the storm in the basket beneath the balloon. Both you and Deula are gripping the ropes for dear life. Nocturna, however, seems untroubled. Her mastery of balloons is unsurpassed; truly, it is her greatest asset. You load another firework charge, and set it off. Though the rain prevents the dispersal of the chemical powder over large areas, every spash of water begins to carry bits of the poison, causing it to cling to your enemies' clothing and gear. Another charge is lit, and fired. A few cracks and a stain are left across the front of the building. You fire one last charge, and a pane glass window shatters and falls. Nocturna swings the balloon closer, and you and Deula roll inside the building.

Outside, the soldiers pour from every street in the city, all centered on the war party now hunting them. The men- mooks, henchman, boys, whatever you choose to call them- fill the street in front of the building, waiting for the soldiers with weapons stolen from the Fed's own armories. Raven, Jay, and Lark fall back against the building, issuing orders to the men outside. The supercriminals, however, use the front entrance.

The lights go out from the storm.

A number of men inside find themselves incinerated in the dark by the Crazy Quilt's lasers as he strolls easily through the dark, seeing by ultraviolet light. He whistles at Shame to alert him of danger, and even in the pitch blackness he is able to pick off a soldier with his revolver.

In the darkness, the Ten-Eyed Man holds both hands above his hands, surveying the entire room with his ten eyes. Every ray of light bouncing off every surface in the room is picked up by his eyes, and amplified tenfold. As he stands in perfect silence, he sees every figure in the room around him. One by one, he quietly takes them down, crushing their throats in his two mighty hands.

Outside, across the street, Mitchell Mayo stands in the pouring rain and sets off a spotlight summoning a true hero. The Mothsignal lights up the sky.

A small group of soldiers try to clear out a hallway, each watching the others' backs. They hear an insect-like chittering in the dark. There is a sound like scissor blades shearing past one another, and one of the men is sliced to ribbons. The men look where their companion once was, catching a glimpse of a red shape. They shoot. One more of them dies. Then the next. Finally, the last soldier sees their assailant coming towards them- two masked women with blades for hands.

Magpie hums to herself as she easily climbs along the office walls and ceiling, dropping down on soldiers, silencing them, and seeing if they have anything quite worth stealing. All she gets is a few wedding bands, some cheap watches, and a particularly ugly pendant. It's probably her favorite, though- it IS awfully shiny.

Penguin leisurely waddles down a hallway with Two-Face, idly chatting about what they'll do once things are back in order. Penguin's umbrella is open in front of them. Should anyone be rude enough to shoot at them, they find their bullets bounce off the umbrella. Then they find themselves being shot at.
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Dwayne is outside, leading a group of men from each of the three gangs, shooting into the crowds with a shotgun.

Dot, however, is inside- she likes to get up close and personal.

But you're still upstairs, with Deula. Deula is carrying an aluminum bat, and you're loaded down with all of Red's Joker goodies.

"Let's find Irons and get out," you tell her. "He's probably with the Brain Trust."

The pair of Jokers slowly walk through the darkened offices. As you reach the stairwell, you look down. You can't see anything, but you hear voices you don't recognize, so you drop a handful of the chattering teeth down. You hear screaming.

The two of you go upstairs, finding a small group of feds, unaware that you're nearby. Quickly, the two of you attack, knocking their guns form their hands. You use your knife, trying to kill as quickly and efficiently as possible. Deula, however, seems to relish using the bat, screaming with every hollow THUNK of the metal bat. The men are a bloody mess. You press on.

You hear voices coming from a room at the end of the hall. Four... No, five. You can't be sure how many there are. You count down with Deula, and the two of you shove open the door to find....

...The Brain Trust. Irons, the Riddler, a blonde woman, a fat man, and some old men. If it weren't such a letdown, it would be sad.

"You're coming with us, Irons," you tell him.

"You've lost control," he tells you. "I should have known you weren't the real Joker from the start."

"The REAL Joker wouldn't wear an ORANGE Bow-tie!" says the blonde woman, crouched on the floor.

"Look what you did, Irons," you tell him. "Look how many people you killed."

"YOU killed," he says. "You've killed hundreds of men."

"Well, now we've got you, Fatman. Now what do we do with you?"

>wat do
>wat ask
>wat say
I'm feeling we take the Irons and the Brain Trust back to the HQ. Have them searched and trussed, and prepare to have him make a speech outlining his involvement with supervillains and his hiring of Clayface. After that, we can plan an execution, forcing Batman to break in and attempt to rescue our prisoners.
"Every time with the damn bowtie"
Then pull the bang gun.

We want irons preferably.
Tag the room with smilex lite.
Shoot questioner in the head a couple times if available.
Then remove the rest.
"Nah, Irons, but he did put me in charge beforehand. Then you burned down my house, mocked me and his memory to my face and killed my people."
"I might be a monster Irons, but I'm not a hypocrite."
"You know the election, the whole running ga"-shoot questioner to make a point.-"g?" "was meant to stop 'people' like you"
"That and, you know, for fun."
"Forgetting the women and children Irons?Tsk, awful sexist of you, don't you think?"
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"Always the bow-tie with you people..." you say, drawing your gun. "Let me repeat, you're coming with us, Irons. And you're going to tell everyone about the Brain Trust here, and hiring Clayface."

"Everything we've done here has been completely legal," says Irons. "Clayface was just... an anomaly."

"Your 'anomaly' killed my friend," you tell him. "I might not be the Joker, but he put me in charge beforehand. Then you burned down my house, mocked me and his memory to my face and killed my people. I might be a monster, Irons, but I'm not a hypocrite."

"Take him," says Nygma. "Think we're all done here." He looks to the others, and they nod. "We were offered amnesty for overseeing this operation for them. They wanted a team of criminal behavior experts, so they looked for criminals."

"Is he... telling a riddle?" asks Deula.

"No, little lady, the time for riddles is over. Now's when the answers come out."
Well Irons you remind me of a bad joke , shoot the brain trust members aside from Harley and egghead. Then take Irons dress him as a clown and execute him on live television better luck next time Luthor. Hang the bodies in front of city hall.
Nah, just questioner and puzzler are the only two brain trust members without records.
Don't let the riddler walk away best to end this take out the rest of the brain trust make a show of it then what i posted earlier->>43237420
Duela, do me a favor and get Irons.
The rest of you are free to leave peacefully.
>Shoot the damn hush knock off in the head.
Well, now
Why? He's done nothing to us specifically and isn't a wild card unlike Questioner.
Puzzler and Questioner were marked as targets in group.
We came all this way we need to kill someone important and hes the riddler any Gotham villain is a wildcard though i'm fine with letting him go but at least kill the unknowns.

"What have I been telling you, Irons, since the very beginning? Haven't you picked it up yet? 'There's a Question'- he wears blue. 'There's an Answer'- he wears newsprint. 'But there's no one asking,' Irons. No one is asking Questions! Have you picked it up yet? 'You think that you have Questions, but all you have is a Joke?'"

"...Questioner?" Irons turns to the little old man.

"There IS no Questioner you idiot!" shouts Riddler. "There never was!"

The Questioner laughs. The hunchbacked little man extends to his full height- he's taller than you.

He tears the bandages from his face.
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uh oh
Well lets shoot him no delay there can be only two(for now). Its not liked he'd stay dead even if we killed him.
I see no particular reason nor need to top Nygima.
>Shoot him in the head on reflex. Multiple times. Ask Duela to hold Harley off for a sec while we cut his head off.
"Yeah. Figured it was you. No way in hell am I playing with a German deck."
Shoot. Stab. Beat. Maim. No hesitation. Don't give'm a chance nor a moment.

'cause Fuckfcukfuckfuccccccck
Hit the button on the directional mine vest. In order to reduce Questioner to confetti.
How did you not see this coming?
Aside from killing him we laugh like a mad man it was pretty funny Irons was looking for the Joker now he has three.
I just woke up. Also I've never been good at riddles.

And on a meta level I expected something more dramatic in the last issue.
After we kill him.
And probably Harley now too.
Possibly Duela. Probably.
This is second to last
It's probably too late to say this, but I hate the claymore vest idea. Even it's got a shitload of padding, detonating any sizable chunk of plastic explosive attached to our chest is a good way to break every rib in our body and turn the chunks into shrapnel. We better be Comic Book(tm) tough if we do this.
"What is this, a German deck of cards?" Proceed to try and shoot Questioner, but I suspect Harley or Duela are gonna stop us from doing that.

Also, Matches is with us/in the area, so we're gonna get Batman to show up soon too.
Sounds like a happy family reunion
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"Puddin'!" says Harley, throwing her arms around the man. "Hey there, Pumpkin," says the man. "Glad you got my note."

"I did everythin' just like you said," she says. Joker pats her on the head. "I can always count on you."

He turns to the two of you. You shoot him with the BANG gun, pulling the trigger twice. The harpoon shoots into his chest, and plinks off a breastplate beneath. She shakes his head, disapprovingly. "After everything I did for you two, too," he says.

You scramble in your pocket for a second dart.

"These are the two who've been usin' your name?" asks Harley.

"Of course!" he says, smiling (though he doesn't ever do anything else.) "Because I gave it to them!"

He gestures towards Deula. "THIS is the Joker's Daughter..." He gestures towards you. "And just call this one 'Junior!'" She gives him a look- half puzzled, half angry. "Is there somethin' you ain't tellin me? Because I don't thing I eva-"

"Honest. Harley- I've been a Saint! She's not the real 'Joker's Daughter,'" he says, laughing.

"...That still don't tell me-" Harley keeps talking, but you don't pay attention. You look at Deula. Her face is blank.

>This. This is 14/15
Brock has "fuck you reroll your hit" and "oh, I'm dead? On a 6 I get up with 1 hp left"
In the mini game.
I know it's 14/15. I just expected it in 15/15 'cause I'm a dumbass, apparently.
"Hey, kid? You ok? We've been over this. People are who they choose to be. A joker can have any face and have any value. It's all in what you do with it."
That's really swell and all, but surviving that would need superpower levels of bullshit. At the very least, we can expect to end up deaf and unconscious.
Well fuck.

Also, bad sport shooting old Mr J before he had chance to say much. It'd just piss him off.

So nygma was double contracting for the old man?
we never really asked

Shrug, grin at the Joker. "To be fair, I'm like 95% sure you're gonna kill me for besmirching your good name. Can't blame a guy for trying to save his own hide."

Look back at Irons. "I'm sure the original will explain why he did this all in good time. But for now, you're gonna go on TV, lift the lockdown, and explain why Gotham's nutjobs are running the show again."
Nygma is still well, an enigma. All we know is that he worked for Irons and that he knew the Joker was inside the investigation all along. What level of coercion used is entirely unkown.
"Been a bit of a month, between Irons and everyone else. Enjoy the vacation?"
I think all we can do is laugh at this point, looks like Gotham has three devils to dance with.
I think he just worked it out for himself, and didn't feel the need to announce it.
I suppose 15/15 will be Batman gangclownrape.
Not once he's done with us.
More like once batman shows up and kicks the shit out of everyone until then tell them we are going to borrow irons for a bit and continue on with the plan.

"Deula-" you whisper, still trying to load the gun. But like Red told you when he gave it to you, it's a bitch to reload. "Any face, any value," you whisper. "It's all in what you do with it, remember"

"Don't worry your little sister, Junior," says the Joker dismissively. "She knows you just don't up and kill the Joker-" Deula starts talking, while the Joker mouths the words along with her. "That's just not the way it works."

He ruffles her green hair. "My little girl's an honor student!"

You try to grin at the Joker. "To be fair, I'm like 95% sure you're gonna kill me for besmirching your good name. Can't blame a guy for trying to save his own hide."

The Joker laughs, slaps his knee, then slaps you on the back.

"Of COURSE I am! But not after all that you've done for me tonight! You got the old Eff Bee Eye outta my hair. Now I can go right back to my adoring public!

Tonight, you can all go home to your cozy beds. Even you, Fatman." He slaps Irons on the back, knocking him down. "And you can wait for me."
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"Nobody will be waiting for you, Joker," you hear a deep voice from the darkness say.

Instinctively, all three of you look to the source of the voice. A huge, black, figure stands in the shadows.

"Took you long enough," says Joker. "The babysitter's not been taking care of the kids, hon," he says to Harley.

"I know what you did, Joker," he says.

"There's knowing it..." he says, taking a step backwards, "...and there's showing it."

With Harley in his arms, Joker falls back through the plate glass window. It shatters behind him, and he falls out of the building. Batman rushes to the edge, as you try to slink off into the darkness. Deula, however, will barely budge.

"You two are coming with me," he tells you, unfurling a pair of cuffs from his belt.
Shoot gun? Acid flower?
I'm not honestly feeling it. This can be our way out, if we're going to accept solitary confinement in Arkham. Joker's back in the game, so both pretenders are immediately disposable. And with us killing so many people, there's no way we're going back to being a psychology student.
I'm all in favor of asking the judge for computer priveleges.
Nope. There's still things to do, you could try to use her as a bargaining chip. But that's not what you do.
>Try to get Duela moving a bit longer
"Look after her, alright?"
Sorry bats i'm fingering the trigger to an explosive vest and i'm not to sure just how big the boom is, besides i'll take my chances with the other guy. throw what ever we have left of the teeth and other stuff to distract him if he gets to close detonate the vest if not try and lose him in the fighting downstairs.
Run out the window? KITE-MAN, CATCH ME?
>he doesn't catch you
No way are we leaving our crew to twist in the wind with -that-.
If it bleeds we can kill it.
"What do you think would hurt him more Bats? Killing him or killing you?"
Point out that if he gives chase he's leaving a catatonic girl in a room of supervillians and then we bail to synch up with our crew.
"one request actually pops, i get this was one big joke.. but what was the punchline?"
"Left a 'scar' on."
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Your mind races. You could turn yourself in. This can be our way out, if we're going to accept solitary confinement in Arkham. Joker's back in the game, so both pretenders are immediately disposable. And with us killing so many people, there's no way we're going back to being a psychology student.

...But there's still things to do. You turn to Deula, then look to Batman.

Just as his face is smashed into the ground by the brightly-dressed man behind him.

"I've been waiting for this," says the Killer Moth. Batman and the Killer Moth match each other blow for blow as you drag Deula down the stairs, the Brain Trust following.

Your small group steps out into the raining street. You don't see anybody.

Just corpses.

"Look what you did, Jokers," you hear someone wheezing behind you. "We were going to fix Gotham," says Irons. "Get rid of you." He points a gun at you.

You look up, and see a green shape in the winds of the storm.

"Irons," you tell him. "We've both been bad. Maybe I've been spending a little too much time around Harvey, but I'm feeling a little... Fatalistic."

A cable locks into the concrete near you, leading up into the sky. You yank it out.

"Let's both pray real hard, Irons, and hope somebody listens."

You grab Irons' hand with one hand, and hold onto the kite with the other.

As if on cue, there is a bolt of lightning.

You feel like you've been shot again.- but all over your body this time. You smell sizzling fat smoking meat.

You pass out.

>end of issue 14
>last issue next time
They just might turn us in to the Joker once this gets out. Remember that time we asked all the guys in our crew, and none of them wanted go give us a straight answer whether or not they'd choose him over us?
Don't look at it as a personal matter. We're not sure of their loyalties, and chancing it could get us killed quickly or slowly.
Which will be soon or next week? Also thanks for running.
>so i want to do the last one when its most convenient for the most people to be around. Like always I'll go for as long as it takes
>i'm planning sometime this weekend.
sounds good, QM, see you there.
The only one I'd be concerned about is Dwayne.
Coal's one of the few people we didn't inherit and Dottie's spent most of her time doing her damnedest to make sure we live and get out alive.

But frankly I just want the old man dead. Brock dying is fine as long as his friends are alright and the old man is dead.
Frankly, if I'm writing it, he's not all talk.
Not anymore at least.
Thanks for running and I'll be here as often as I can
Alright, thanks.

What happened to deula?
Mental snap when she heard she was not infact the jokers daughter.
What about e "thats not the way it works" thing?
Mh, there's a lot of early Halloween stuff going on on the weekend.

Like, I'm helping out at a downtown thing myself. I suggest....something like 7ish PM EST. Those kid-centric things tend to taper off around the time the dark starts to roll in, when it's not tricker-treating proper.
Thanks for running boss
I'm with you on that. Would be funny as hell if the one good thing we managed to take out of all of this was taking the clown down with us. For good, for once.

I favor getting out alive, of course. But if we can't? Well. Let's leave a real lasting impact.
>i was actually wondering what time/day was best for other people

>7:00PM EST it will be
>hopefully tomorrow

Also, how are YOU doing, mate? You've been to the hosptitle at least once since this started.
Midnight in Gotham: the short bus of /tg/.
So, am I the only one that noticed the "there's no way we're going back to being a psychology student"? I think GothamQM showed his hand.
I get that you're all too inbred to understand basic English, but how hard is it really to write quest in the title field? You're just making yourself look like idiots by making some weird infantile rebellion against basic board etiquette.
He was copying what someone else said in a post.
And you look like an autistic ass hat who gets triggered by things that can easily be ignored. Seriously, what do you get by being this much of a sperg over something you can filter?

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